Iridescence
by District11-Olive
Summary: "This year the Hunger Games is all about choices, in so many more ways beyond this twist." A collaboration story with Acereader55 and Call Me Fin.
1. Prologue Part One

**On Top of the World by Imagine Dragons**

_Waiting on this for a while now_  
><em>Paying my dues to the dirt<em>

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><p><strong>President Snow<strong>

**District11-Olive**

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><p>"The panel is waiting for you, sir."<p>

"Thank you, Vivian," I say, once again dismissing my distressed-looking assistant. This must be the third time now that she has knocked on my study door in the past twenty minutes. Surely she must understand that I am all too aware of the anxious panel of Gamemakers waiting for me in the great room. I understand to every degree that I asked them here at precisely noon hours. I also understand that I am the President and I am allowed to disregard their waiting entirely should it benefit my own means.

With another one of her solemn nods, the door closes slowly behind her and I am left once again to my own indecisiveness. It is only a few months before the start of the Fourth Quarter Quell that marks a century of Hunger Games, and I have realized that it is indeed past time for me to have chosen my next Head Gamemaker. I have known that the choice would be necessary since just a few days after the end of the last Hunger Games, but the choice seemed insignificant and far away in comparison to the mourning I had to face.

It is true that due to the nature of the job, Head Gamemakers never simply retire. It is a job that is sealed in death, and it just so happened that my last Head Gamemaker, Damus Lavine, chose to seal it himself just four days after the end of the 99th Hunger Games. He was found in the control room having had injected himself with a lethal dose of tracker jacker toxin.

While it is true that Head Gamemakers are almost always very short lived in their careers, I had held onto Damus since the 87th Hunger Games when I made the not so difficult choice to end Hetta Mavic's two year run. He gave Panem some of the best years of the Hunger Games that it has ever seen, with brilliance stemming from his beautiful arena designs to his amazing incorporation of mental stimulation into the very physical demands the arena places on the tributes.

He was a true master of the art, destined to be the longest running Head Gamemaker in just four short years. Not only that, though, but we became like long lost brothers of sorts. We had a twisted sort of understanding, like a family that discussed the benefits of targeted bombings over dinner instead of the day's events. But we were an odd sort of close nonetheless.

I have done my best not to dwell on the fact that I did not see his suicide coming, because the truth is that no matter our closeness I am still the President and I must do what is needed to keep the nation running no matter what I am feeling. Sometimes late at night I allow myself to consider what Damus and I would be cooking up for the Quarter Quell had he graced Panem with his presence for another year, but not right now. Right now I have to choose his successor, I have taken far too long to make this decision. If I take too much longer they will not have the proper amount of time to prepare an exciting Quarter Quell.

There are three candidates I have handpicked out of last year's panel of Gamemakers, none of which I consider truly worthy of the position. Oh how much easier it would have been to simply leave the grunt work up to Damus, but now the success of the Quarter Quell is riding on this decision. Who can do the job and give Panem the wonderful anniversary of the Hunger Games that it deserves?

I stand from my desk as a thought crosses my mind. I don't believe it has even been done before, and certainly not within my reign as president, but it may just be the crazy idea that I need to light a fire beneath these three candidates. This year none of them are ready for the responsibilities of being the Head Gamemaker, but next year one of them will be... with a test run.

Three Head Gamemakers. That means three times the ideas, three times the competition to produce the greatest arena elements, and another year for me to choose Damus' true successor.

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><p><strong>Roan Marisco, Male, Gamemaker<strong>

**District11-Olive**

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><p>I look at the fax in my hand again and the shaking excitement returns. Last night seemed like nothing but a distant fantasy, a dream even. Waiting for over an hour for President Snow to begin the second meeting about the Fourth Quarter Quell. His assistant, whose name I always forget, running in and out of the room to follow orders from both her boss and the senior Gamemakers. The sound of the coffeemaker and the strong smell of burnt coffee grounds the only company we all have even amongst each other.<p>

Last night was a waking nightmare in itself. Every night I am required to spend in the company of the other Gamemakers is always far more exhausting than it is exciting, even whilst working on the biggest Quarter Quell that Panem has ever had.

The best nights I remember having in my career as a Gamemaker were the late nights spent in muttation labs, working away to tweak the genetic makeup of a muttation that I knew would surely catch the eye of President Snow, not to mention the whole of Panem, in its debut. That is how I began as a Gamemaker, as most of us do, as nothing but another lab technician working every inch of my brain to its maximum exertion so that maybe next time it would be I who has created the muttations to feature in the arena.

If I had known where catching the attention of senior Gamemakers would lead me, I am unsure if I would have worked quite so hard to get to where I am now. The prestige of being a senior Gamemaker is countered only by the Head Gamemaker, but sitting in a room for hours on end to discuss nothing more than a trivial detail of something that has nothing to do with my area of specialty? That is something I never wished for, but we all make mistakes and I have learned to make the most of what mine have graced me with.

Beginning my work under Head Gamemaker Lavine at the tender age of twenty-three seemed like it would be the end of my promotion, but now just a year and a half later here I am- holding a fax from President Snow himself detailing the Fourth Quarter Quell. Head Gamemaker Marisco, I never thought there would be a day where I would see that printed at the top of a letter.

I smooth the paper out across my desk and let my eyes take it all in hungrily. Just when I am starting to believe that it was a mistake to move up this quickly in this career path. Just when I think that I might have enjoyed staying in the muttation lab for a few more years. This note tells me that everything I have worked to prove is worth it. I am going to be the Head Gamemaker.

This year there might be three of us, but the one that gives the best performance for the Quarter Quell is most certainly going to be myself. I have never been outdone in anything in my entire life, not in school, not in clubs, not in anything. And I am not about to start down that dark path now. No, I am going to be better than both of them. So what if I am the least experienced in gamemaking out of the three of us? That means absolutely nothing. Genius is born, not raised, and I have proved time and time again that in this field I am nothing short of a genius.

I scan down the rest of the page, all of it seeming rather formal to me. There is very basic guidelines for the arena that I remember discussing earlier this month at our first meeting. A small piece about the teams that have been put together, including two new additions to the head muttations team and one to the head of weaponry. All of it seems of little importance and I begin to lose interest after the first couple of headings. Then it catches my eye, the section simply titled "Quarter Quell."

"_On the Fourth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that it was through their own choices that the rebellion took place and many lives were lost, the choice will be given back to the Capitol. Citizens of the Capitol will vote on the districts that will send the most and least amount of tributes, as outlined below._

_The three districts receiving the highest amount of votes will each offer up four tributes for the Quarter Quell._

_The three districts receiving the second highest amount of votes will each offer up three tributes for the Quarter Quell._

_The three districts receiving the third highest amount of votes will each offer up the usual two tributes for the Quarter Quell._

_The three districts receiving the lowest amount of votes will each offer up only one tribute for the Quarter Quell."_

I smile, it's brilliance that only a true genius could come up with. It is the perfect representation of the pain and suffering that the rebels chose to impose upon our great nation. For a moment I cannot help but feel proud that the Capitol was able to quell the rebellion and be still standing great and tall today. This year the Hunger Games is all about choices, in so many more ways beyond this twist.

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><p><strong>AN (Olive) : Hey guys, miss me? It's only been about three months or less since I left FF, but I'm back... and I'm doing another SYOT. **

**You guys can thank Fin (Call Me Fin) and Ace (Acereader55) for the convincing. **

**Anyways, this is the first chapter of our new SYOT which will be written by the three of us. A bit of the structure was given in Roan (My Gamemaker)'s POV, but I'll lay it out for you again here to keep things simple. **

**The number of tributes each district will send into the Hunger Games was determined by Capitol vote. The most popular districts send in more, the less popular send in less. Also means there will be thirty tributes total.**

**Districts One, Three, and Seven will each send in **_**four **_**tributes.**

**Districts Two, Four, and Eight will each send in **_**three **_**tributes.**

**Districts Five, Six, and Ten will each send in **_**two **_**tributes.**

**Districts Nine, Eleven, and Twelve will each send in **_**one **_**tribute. **

**For the districts sending in odd numbers of tributes, the last one will be of random gender (ie- District Two will send one girl, one boy, and one random; District Twelve will send in one tribute of random gender). **

**All industries and such are the same as canon.**

**No reservations will be accepted and all spots will remain open until the deadline. On the deadline we will choose the best tributes out of those received and post the second half of the prologue as well as the official tribute list and the link to the blog.**

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><p><strong>Deadline for Tributes- November 29<strong>**th****, 2014.**

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><p><strong>The tribute form is on my profile, and tributes should be sent to this account. We will be accepting a total of thirty tributes. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour! (I had to add that...).<strong>

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><p><strong>Song- On Top of the World by Imagine Dragons<strong>

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><p><em><strong>It'd be really awesome to hear some reviews so I guess we'll put in some questions for you guys to answer along with a general review (which would be so awesome).<strong>_

_**What do you think of the Quarter Quell?**_

_**Any comments on our first of three Head Gamemakers, Roan?**_

_**Thanks for reading and welcome to **_**Iridescence!**


	2. Prologue Part Two

**Habits by Tove Lo**

_You're gone and I gotta stay_

_High all the time_

_To keep you off my mind_

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><p><strong>Gemma Fauxe, Female, Gamemaker<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

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><p>"No Alora, nothing important really.."<p>

"Gemma! You need to do something!" letting out a heavy sigh, I quickly bid goodbye to Alora, and slam the phone on the desk, glaring at the group of people that were now surrounding me.

"I gave you your duties, now what do you want?"

"The arena ma'am, what do you mean by this?" one of the idiots asks, pointing to a blue print he held in his shaking hands.

"I might have been on something when I wrote that, that doesn't even make sense," I joke, but get nothing in return, not even a damn chuckle.

"Then what do you want..?"

"I don't know figure something out, now go, get to work!"

"Gemma, you understand the consequences of being unsuccessful in this profession?"

Oh how easily these people annoy me, it makes me wonder why I even wanted this job in the first place? The fame Gemma, remember that, by the end of the year everyone in Panem will know your name. That is if you don't screw up.

"Alright alright, emergency meeting in my office, I suppose we should work as a team for this..."  
>The very thought of having to sit in a small room with half a dozen other people and listen to them talk and hear them breath and see them.. I have to force myself not to throw up at the whole idea of it.<p>

Despite my dislike for the thought, it's only a few minutes later that I find myself in the very situation that had almost made me vomit moments before.

"Let's begin by talking about the reapings, since that's where it all starts. Remind me again who won the poll?"

"District One, Three, and Seven came in first, meaning they will each send four tributes in this year."

Ah that's right, I remember hearing that and giggling at how idiotic the Capitol really was. District One I can understand, they've always been a favourite, but Seven and Three? Why on earth would you not want to double the amount of careers in the arena, what's so special about Districts Three and Seven?

"Cayla really does know what she's doing," I hear someone comment amongst the many conversations happening around me.

Duh, that's why District Seven won that stupid poll! Two years ago a pretty blonde stole the Capitol's heart, for doing really nothing at all. It had been the first time in a while we'd seen an outer district tribute with those kind of looks, and combine that with the girls natural ability to play a crowd, and charm just about anyone, well those other tributes didn't stand a chance. And here we are, two years later and Cayla still has that effect on people, even promising the Capitol that from now on District Seven tributes would be just like her, or even better. I bet she didn't see this quell coming, because now she has to send twice the amount of tributes.

"Cayla was, and still is one of District Seven's best victors, but her games ended two years ago, and it is time to focus on this years games," I say, barely above a whisper, but still every person in that room immediately shut their mouth and turned to me.  
>I could get used to this kind of power, I think to myself, cracking a small grin.<p>

"I think everyone can agree that we need something that will prove to the President that we are better than the others, we need something original, something no one has seen before," I say, scanning the room for any sign that someone has an idea, because honestly I've got nothing, and clearly neither do they.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair, already giving up hope.

"Go team," I cheer sarcastically. "You all better hope we get a good batch of tributes this year or we are screwed!"

"The last few Games have set the victors bar ridiculously high," someone grumbles, but it's true. Cayla wasn't the only recent victor to steal the Capitol's hearts, take last years victor for example, the 15 year old nerdy boy who managed to look sexy enough to make every girl in the Capitol swoon.. Hey! That's probably why District Three won that poll!

"Gemma, are we going to accomplish anything this meeting?"

"I wanted to, but it isn't looking so good is it? Why don't we call it a day and go downtown for some drinks eh?"

"We have so much to talk about tho! So much planning! So many decisions!"

"That's the thing Declan, we don't, because if there's one good thing about having three Gamemakers this year, it's that the work is divided into thirds, and we still have a long ways until the Games."

"We still should do our part.."

"Let me let you in on a little secret that my father once told me, never do anything you can get someone else to do for you," I whisper, dramatically leaning over so my lips are inches away from his ear.

"Now let's go get those drinks shall we?" I giggle, grabbing my coat off a nearby hook and pushing my way through to the door, 6 pairs of blank faces starring at me as I pass.

I guess I should take this more seriously, their lives are at risk here, but there's just this one tiny little problem; I just don't care.

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><p>I don't know what time it is, but it must be late, because it's been what feels like several hours since my fellow Gamemakers left the small bar I had driven them to. By now the drinks were going down easy, and that warm feeling that starts in your stomach has long since spread throughout my entire body. To put it simply, I've never felt better in my life, so why stop?<p>

Throwing back another shot, that another desperate man had bought me, I turn to face the crowd, ready to find my target of the evening.

It's not hard to find the right one, standing amongst the crowd with his spiked brown hair, dazzling smile, and the muscles to top it all off. It was almost as if someone had made him just for me, regardless, I planned to take full advantage of the opportunity.

I quickly slide out of my heals, pick them up, and strut over to mr handsome as steadily as I can, which apparently isn't very steady, considering I fall into several people on the way there, all of which who graciously help me up, another perk of my new found fame.

"Hey sexy," I purr, linking my hand in his as I approach.

"Uh, hi," he mumbles, quickly pulling his hand away.

"I'm about ready to get out of here, and I need someone to help me home, and well to be blunt I was hoping you'd be up for the job," I wink, putting my hand out to keep myself steady.

"Well I appreciate the offer, but I uh, better be getting home myself," he says, starting to turn around. But I grab his wrist, and with all my drunken strength I spin him around, until he's once again facing me.

"What's wrong with me?" I begin to shout, not caring the attention it may be getting me.

"Nothing, you're pretty and all but-"

"But what? Is it my job? What? Tell me god damn it!" I scream, getting entirely too fed up with his mumbling.

"What's wrong with you is that you don't have a penis, I like guys," he whispers in my ear, and I don't know if it's the shock, or the embarrassment, or a combination of the two, but somehow I end up on the ground, sitting on my butt, starring up at those around me as tears begin to silently fall down my face.

I need another drink, I think, trying to think of anything that might take the embarrassment away, but as I'm standing up, I hear the door slam open, and the bar go eerily silent.

I peek around the many legs that surround me, until I finally see whose entered the bar, and to say my stomach drops is an understatement.

I slowly begin to back up, crawling my way through legs and legs until I reach the other side of the bar, to where I find the emergency exit.

I quickly put my heels back on, how I didn't lose them I have no idea, and reach for the handle.

"Gemma Fauxe."

"Shit," I whisper under my breath, throwing a smile on my face and spinning around. Standing just behind me is the last person I'd ever want to see here, well actually second last; Vivian Gerome, the Presidents personal assistant.

"Having a good night are we?"

"Not bad," I say, though I fear it may come out as more of a slur.

"I think it's about time we head home."

"I couldn't agree more, I was just heading out," more slurs.

"Why don't you come with me?"

I think I nod but I'm not sure because the next thing I know my world goes black, and I'm falling to the floor, vomit escaping my lips.

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><p>"Gemma Gemma Gemma, I have no idea what the President was thinking when he agree to give you this position, but you better turn yourself around before it's too late and you screw up this whole thing." The words are far off, and I can't open my eyes, but somehow I know I'm laying in the back of a car, and Vivian is sat right beside me.<p>

"Sorry," I attempt to say, but I don't know if I get it out or not because a single face flashes across my mind accompanied with the words she's gone, and I'm not sure if it's the pain of remembering her again, or the alcohol, but it's only a few seconds later when I black out for good.

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><p><strong>AN: Hello everyone! This is Ace here, and this chapter was written by Call Me Fin (Fin). This chapter was uploaded to introduce you to Fin's Gamemaker and to update all of you as to how the submissions process is going.  
><strong>

**As a side note, we are only accepting one character per person for now. If we cannot find good enough characters by only accepting one character per person, then we will start to accept more than one character from a single person. Here's an updated version of the tributes we have been receiving;**

**- Districts One and Eight have very stiff competition. We've received a bunch of applications for these two Districts. You may still apply here, but just know that it will be very hard to get in by submitting here.  
><strong>

**- District Ten has received absolutely zero submissions to date, so please feel free to submit here as there hasn't been a single application sent for this District specifically.  
><strong>

**- Districts Nine, Eleven, and Twelve have all only received one submission each. Each of these Districts is only reaping one tribute for this Games, but we would like a wide variety of tributes to choose between so feel free to submit here as there isn't much competition for these spots right now.  
><strong>

**- Districts Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven have all received anywhere from 2-4 submissions each, and if you planned on submitting here please still do it as we would like to have a wide variety of tributes to choose between as some of these districts are reaping more than the normal 2 tributes.  
><strong>

**- We have received a plethora of 18 year olds, so it would be nice to receive a few tributes who are not at the last possible age for their Reaping/Volunteering.**

**We hope you guys enjoyed this part of the prologue and please keep sending in those tributes! The next time we will be updating this will be with the official tribute list. Good luck to everyone that submitted and thanks once again for reading!**

**-Ace, Olive, Fin**

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><p><strong>Song: Habits by Tove Lo<strong>

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><p><strong>Deadline for Tribute Submission: November 29<strong>**th****, 2014**


	3. Prologue Part Three

**Haunt by Bastille**

"_I'll come back to Haunt you._

_Memories will taunt you."_

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><p><strong>Xander, Male, Head Gamemaker<strong>

**Acereader55**

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><p>The heels of my cleaned black shoes click against the hard, polished marble floor of the narrow corridor that I'm striding down. My large steps get me to the end of the corridor rather quickly, and I push open the set of double doors made from frosted glass. The new room is decorated with purple and gold curtains, exotic plants imported from District Seven, and stacks of papers that are overflowing on a wooden desk that is situated in the corner of the room where a woman is seated.<p>

"You really need to organize yourself more, Genova," I speak. "This is why I was given the promotion over you." Genova spins herself around in the purple chair that is placed behind the wooden desk and proceeds to give me a glare that is full of hate and annoyance.

"If you're only here to insult me, I suggest you leave now. I'm not in the mood to engage in a match of witty banter," she spits back. I laugh a hearty laugh and sit myself down in a chair that is across from Genova herself.

"I didn't come for witty banter, my dear Genova. I came to see if you have the information I requested you take."

At the mention of the job I gave her earlier on in the week, her icy blue eyes widen with excitement and she immediately gets up from her chair and scurries over to a small marble table where many manila folders and flash drives are strewn across it.

"I did manage to snag the information that you asked me to get, and I have it some where here…" She trails off as she searches for the flash drive that she stored the information on. When she finds what she is looking for, she scampers back over to the wooden desk where she was seated at when I first came in and plugs the flash drive into a computer. Immediately following this, the computer screen lights up with a variety of letters and numbers. "This wasn't easy to snag, and I had to crack numerous codes to get what you wanted."

"I know this took all of the resources you have Genova, and I cannot express the amount of gratitude I have towards you for doing this for me," I say and give a quick flash of a smile, which I do not throw around lightly. "This information is imperative to my success as one of the three Head Gamemakers this year, and this will certainly give me a leg up on the competition."

"I'm glad I am able to help," Genova says. "Let's just hope that we are not caught doing this or the Head Gamemaker spot isn't the only thing that you'll lose Xander."

It's sweet how much Genova cares about my well-being. I've known for a very long time that Genova has lusted after me, and I intend to use that to my advantage at any point in time that I can. That's why, when I came up with this plan, the first person I thought of to help me was Genova. All it took was a few whispered words and empty promises and she was on board to help me.

I am interrupted from my thoughts when the computer screen flashes brightly and Genova lets out a loud squeal of approval.

"I've cracked it! Here are the files you asked for Xander, all thanks to me." Genova stands up from her place in the chair and motions for me to sit in front of the brightly lit computer screen. I take confident strides over to the chair and sit down, eager to see what the flash drive Genova has contains. When I stare at the computer screen, I smile devilishly.

"Genova, you've certainly outdone yourself. Thank you for all your help," I say, motioning for her to leave the room as I would like some alone time for what I'm about to see. She takes the gesture, smiles, and walks out the frosted glass double doors.

I use the large touch pad attached to the keyboard to scroll through the many pages of designs and coding on the screen, absorbing as much of the information as I can and memorizing as much of the different codes as I can. There is so much so learn and so little time before I will have to dispose of the flash drive so no evidence is left behind.

After a few minutes of studying code after code and design after design, I click the computer screen off and take the flash drive out of the computer. Time to dispose of the evidence. With that thought in mind, I open my mouth wide and swallow the flash drive that contains all of the coding and designs of fellow Head Gamemaker, Roan Marisco.

There is no light protruding through the window when the phone to my apartment rings loudly, begging for me to pick it up. I quickly rip off the sheets that are covering my body in warmth and security, and scurry over to where the phone is in my large apartment. I pick up the phone and am surprised to hear the voice of my loyal assistant, Genova.

"Xander, Xander! They've found out what I've done and they're coming for me." My eyes immediately widen at the sound of Genova sounding so panicked and at the words she is speaking. "They're stalking me right now, and they know I've done something illegal."

"Genova, who is stalking you?" I don't know why I ask the question I already know the answer to.

"You know who it is." Her voice is almost a whisper now and she sounds even more panicked and frantic than before. "You have to make sure they don't tie you to what has happened or else they'll-"

The line immediately cuts dead after a loud shriek was heard, more than likely Genova's. If they've tied Genova to what has happened, then they are on the track to finding out how I am involved with her. I need to think hard and I need to think fast to solve a way out of this disastrous puzzle that I've gotten myself into.

I have to live.

I have to survive.

For Genova.

For myself.

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><p><strong>Song: Haunt by Bastille<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: Hi it's Olive bringing you the last part of the prologue written by Acereader55. Below is the official tribute list for Iridescence, but before showing you that (even though I know you all skipped to it first anyway) I would like to thank everyone that submitted. There were some very tough decisions to be made and it was all because of the many amazing tributes we were sent.**

**I hope there are no hard feelings if your tribute(s) was not accepted. We received over forty submissions for thirty spots, so decisions had to be made.**

**You can find the link to the blog on my profile under collaborations, and there you will be able to see which author is writing for your tribute. If you have any inquiries about changes or something that has been made to your tribute, feel free to PM their author.**

**And now, the tribute list!**

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><p><strong>District One<strong>

Raleigh Torrance, 18

Jasper Graves, 18

Zaria Tullius, 18

Glint Grayson, 18

**District Two**

Eden Ares, 18

Braden Kellis, 18

Arnette Lyrin, 18

**District Three**

Maelle Thurske, 18

Zeno King, 17

Savvy McCreevy, 15

Toby Alvarez, 13

**District Four**

Ebba Farley, 18

Atlas Majors, 16

Dierdre Lewell, 18

**District Five**

Aluma Rye, 16

Gideon Challene, 16

**District Six**

Tatum Albright, 16

Aston Moroque, 15

**District Seven**

Lavender Vargas, 14

Shay Langford, 15

Phoebe Ryder, 16

Regan Volke, 18

**District Eight**

Eira Gray, 17

Armada Pruitt, 13

Avrie L'reaux, 17

**District Nine**

Matilda Prescott, 18

**District Ten**

Corlis Kembrey, 17

Hunter Mathot, 16

**District Eleven**

Winifred Herring, 12

**District Twelve**

Xylia Devrine, 18

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><p><strong>It would mean a lot to all of us to hear from you all about what you thought of the chapter and, of course, what you think of this year's tributes! Leave a review and let us know who your favourites (and least favourites) are just based on the information given in the blog. <strong>

**Next up is the Reapings, which will be up within 1-2 weeks if all goes as planned. **

**-Ollie**


	4. History

**Prisoner of Today by Billy Talent **

_Cause this our time and our space..  
>History I can't erase<em>!

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><p><strong>Gemma, Female, Head Gamemaker<strong>

**Reapings District 1-4**

**Call Me Fin**

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><p>Head Gamemaker Gemma Fauxe<p>

My head is pounding, the light hurts my eye, my stomach aches, and my brain is scattered, my whole body is a mess. But yet, here I am, sat on a couch in a grand room with dozens of people scattered around me, talking, screaming, laughing, making as much noise as they can, as if they didn't know I was nursing a hangover.

I'm Gemma Fauxe, when am I not?

"Are you excited to find out who your tributes will be?"

"Leave me alone," I snap, glaring at the old man who thought he was good enough to speak to me.

I don't understand why I'm forced to be in a public setting to watch the reapings, but Vivian suggested it, and by suggest I mean she demanded. So hear I am, probably still drunk from last nights party, ready to find out the little brats I'll be killing in a weeks time.

"Can you quiet down? Don't you idiots realize it's starting?"

I'll admit, I've changed a little over the past few months, some might say the power has gone to my head, but I'd tell them to fuck right off, because what the hell is power good for if not to make me feel superior over the idiots that walk around the city?  
>I couldn't tell you the name of the man on screen, and if asked I wouldn't be able to repeat what he's saying, but whatever it is I'm sure it's unimportant, for if it was, I would already know about it.<p>

It's some time before the mans plastic face is replaced with the District One symbol, which is then soon replaced with the showing of District One's town square, where a resident idiot stands on stage, rambling on about more stuff I couldn't care less about. But soon enough she is dipping her hand into the first bowl, and pulling out a name.

The Quell twist said nothing about volunteering, so naturally the forgotten name is quickly replaced by an eager volunteer. I take that back, the girl looks less than eager as she casually walks to the stage, her face showing absolutely no emotion. She's tall, taller than most of the people she passes on her walk. Her hair is black, and it's pulled up in a tight ponytail. She's pretty, but nothing compared to those District One has produced in the past, it's almost a let down not to get our stereotypical beautiful blonde, but there is still hope in our second female.

When the girl finally gets to the stage, she accepts the microphone from the escort and announces her name in a rather monotone voice.

Zaria Tullius, you're not helping yourself one bit with your boring show so far.

Though my opinion seems to proven wrong as I hear the excited whispers of those near me.

Zaria's face immediately pops up on the favourites table that is shown from the second the first tribute is selected, until the last kill has breathed their final breath. Of course, Zaria sits at number one, being the only tribute drawn, but I wouldn't be surprised if she stays there for a while.

"Gemma! What do you think? You like her right? She's so pretty!" I ignore the squeals from behind me as the escort dips her hand back into the bowl.

The girl that starts towards the stage is more what you'd expect from the Capitols favourite District. Her hair is long, and blonde, and her body is thin, and the most important part of her appearance; she's smiling.

I can't help but crack a small smile in return, surely this is more what the Capitol wants, she's even waving at the cameras for them! There's no doubt she's laying it on thick, almost too thick for me not to get a little bit suspicious, but the people around me have no qualms about the girl, hooting and hollering almost as loud as they did for Zaria.

My head begins to ache again, and I scan the crowd, glaring at whomever I make eye contact with, successfully quieting quite a few people.

Who ever invented the hangover can go to hell, and why hasn't anyone tried to cure this? There's scientists all over Panem working on plastic surgery, and curing diseases and what not, but what about the people who are naturally beautiful and perfectly healthy, but like to drink a little? We're worth nothing I guess, maybe I should pay someone to start working on a cure.. Screw it, I'll just use the only cure I know off.

I grab my coffee and purse from the floor, and empty my emergency flask into the coffee without anyone noticing, everyone in the room being way to absorbed in the two pretty girls that now stand on stage.

Tossing my purse to the floor, I chug back the now cold and bitter coffee, almost immediately feeling better.

The girls still stand on stage, obviously, where else are they to go? Is my brain becoming fuzzy already? No it's just my imagination, it must be.

The blonde girl, Raleigh Torrance as the favourites board says, stands still grinning at the cameras, her female partner doing the exact opposite, maintaining her emotionless stare.

Escort lady moves to the other bowl, pulling out a slip and reading the name.

Soon after the name is called, a masculine voice is yelling they volunteer, and a tall blonde boy is strutting to the stage, a smug grin plastered on his face. He confidently scales the stages steps, and announces his name to be Glint Grayson.

"I think I'll call him GG," I joke to a bright-haired women beside me, and surprisingly she laughs, repeating the nickname to the man beside her.

Soon enough the whole room is chanting the two letters, and I can't help but laugh, one little comment can cause such a display of enthusiasm. I really do have all the power I've ever wanted.

"So, whose your favourite so far?" I whisper to the same bright-haired lady, beginning to feel like my normal social self, thanks to my little friend in the flask.

"Oh I don't know! I love all three, they're so pretty!" She's squeals, and I can't help but laugh along side her.

I turn away as the finale member of team District One heads towards the stage. He calmly approaches the stage after the name has been called, and much like Zaria he doesn't show any emotion, staring blankly out at the crowd as he takes his position on stage and calmly announces his name; Jasper Graves, a very haunting name I do say.

"There they are," the lady beside me gasps as the camera zooms out to show the four tributes that will be representing District One.

A feeling of satisfaction overwhelms me as I look over each and everyone of them, Zaria still holds her blank stare, gazing off into the distance, but I do see it now, the beauty the people around me had described, she's alluring, and the Capitol loves that.

Raleigh smiles away, waving at the crowd as the escort asks for their applause. She looks genuinely happy to be there, but with her odds, I don't see how that's possible, even if she is a career, I'll be watching you Raleigh Torrance.

Glint holds himself similarly to Raleigh, smiling and waving at the crowd, but his smile has more of an arrogance to it, and for some reason I truly believe he's happy to be where he is.

Jasper is the only one who has changed in the slightest since claiming his spot, it's barely noticeable, but as he stands on stage staring at the crowd, I can't help but notice the way his lips twitch in a way that says he's holing back a smile.

I excuse myself during the commercial break, and slip away to where the bar is just beginning to open.

The man sees me coming, and has my drink on the counter before I even reach it, and I make it back to the room just in time to see District Two spelled across the screen, Zaria still leading in the favourites poll.

The escort, a man this time, is another one who I hadn't, and wouldn't bother to learn the name of, just another irrelevant person in this whole process.

As soon as the first female slip is selected, a hand is visible amongst the crowd, and shortly after a rather large girl comes walking up the stage. When I say large, I mean it, I have never seen such a masculine looking girl. She's tall, more than likely at least 6 foot, and her arms are pure muscle.

"I wouldn't wanna get in a fight with her," I joke to my new friend beside me, but instead of the chuckle I'd expect, I get an obviously fake grin, followed by a disgusted look at my drink.

Who the hell does this bitch think she is? I can drink if I want to, who is she to judge?

"Problem?" I snark, but receive no response. Oh well, it had to come some time, the truth is people just don't like me, and that's that. I don't waste another minute before I down the rest of my drink.

The muscle girl finally gets to the stage just as the warm sensation hits my stomach, and my fingers start to get tingly. I force myself to pay attention though, as she announces her name to be Eden Ares, a lethal sounding name to go with her lethal appearance, and when she proclaims to be this years victor, well I find it hard to doubt her.

The eyes start to linger towards me as I sloppily set my glass on the floor, but I do my best to pay them no attention, studying the screen as the male volunteer begins his trek towards the stage. Just like the girl, he isn't too exciting, average looking with a whole lot of muscle, and I was just about to write him off as boring when the screams began.

A girl, no doubt, screaming a name, one which I presume to be that of the volunteers, screaming at him to stop, not to go, it's almost pathetic, but the look in the boys eyes tell me he's second guessing. Braden goes to turn around, but two peacekeepers are quickly on either side of him, escorting him up the stage just as a young women comes barrelling down the isle towards him. She's quickly swarmed by peacekeepers, but she's done her damage, the boy doesn't look nearly as confident as he did before, his eyes filled with regret and hesitation.

It's too late buddy, you're going in, and more than likely going to die, and there's nothing that girl can do about it. People can be so dumb sometimes, take my fellow Head Gamemakers for example, their idiots, thinking I don't see the way they look at me, the way they whisper behind my back, heck even the way they talk to my face, their just like everybody else, they hate me, and I don't know why.

This stupid drink must be making me all emotional and shit, keep it together Gemma, you don't care what they think.

Braden Kellis is the name of the boy who quietly introduces himself, taking his spot beside Eden, who looks at him with slight disgust. I crack a small smile, career drama is always a favourite.

"And now, behind me there is a bowl containing a piece of paper with every eligible citizens name on it. The paper I select will determine who joins the lovely Eden and Braden on stage, unless of course we have a volunteer!"

The girl doesn't even let the escort select a slip, before she's standing in the isle, a bright smile on her face.

The ginger-haired girl's smile doesn't falter as she struts to the stage, hips swaying as if she was one of those models the Capitol so desperately loves.

I'm beginning to think she's just crazy, but just before she reaches the stages, she turns to the nearest camera and flashes a wink, combined with an overly dramatic kiss blown towards the lens. Oh dear, just like Raleigh this girl's laying it on thick, but there's something different in the way she does it. Raleigh laid it on thick, but she seemed as dumb as she appeared, this girl, well this girls got something else.

I eye the favourites board, searching for the girls name; Arnette Lyrin matches with the pretty girls smiling face.

The dark-haired District One girl still leads the pack, but Eden Ares is closely behind, Raleigh Torrance bringing up the rear, already beat out by Arnette.

"What is wrong with Raleigh?" I ask to no one in particular, but get an answer none the less.

"She looks like an idiot, I wouldn't be surprised if she's cut from the pack, obviously being the weakest link so far," someone says from behind me, but I don't bother turning around, only nodding in response.

Mostly because the comment pissed me off, what right do these people have to judge that poor girl based on her appearance? Sure she seems a little.. Bubbly, but isn't that what they want? A girl who actually wants to be here? No, they prefer the two girls who walked to the stage with no emotion, because that means they won't hesitate before stabbing their allies in the back.

The Capitol is so damn hypocritical.

My eyes begin to droop as District Three appears on screen, the combination of my hangover and drinking again clearly getting the better of me. But knowing if I have any hope of continuing to be Gamemaker next year, I need to at least know my tributes. That's one thing both Xander and Roan won't see coming, me actually trying to win this little competition, I'm quite sure they both see me as the easy one to beat, but we'll see about that!

District Three is the first District where I actually have to pay attention to the escort, because it's pretty much guaranteed that the name she calls is the name of the tribute that's going into the arena.

I daze off as it shows the boring stuff, where she talks about the Capitol, and all it's glory, all a bunch of bullshit if you ask me.. When the hell did I become to hateful of the Capitol? I must need another drink.

After the Reapings, I remind myself, forcing myself to return to the screen as the escort walks back to centre stage, slip in hand.

"Maelle Thurske, where are you dear?" A moment passes before an older girl steps from the 18 year old section, lip quivering and hands balled up into little fists. Even through her eyes are watery, she looks... calm. She's doesn't look like she's trying to exert her emotions to make us sympathize with her, or to make us see her as a threat, she looks innocent, like a girl showing her true emotions at the thought of dying, and that's either true, or she's a heck of a good actor.

Once on stage, she quickly takes her spot behind the escorts, keeping her hands balled up, and her eyes watering, though she doesn't let one tear slip, an impressive accomplishment.

Maelle is probably the best thing that could come from District Three, she's decently pretty, and she held herself together fairly well, but yet there's still no way I could see her as victor, she's too fragile, too weak, and once again I'm lost as to why the Capitol voted for this pathetic District.

I'm praying by some miracle a big muscle girl comes up next, but when the escort calls out the second name, and almost immediately screams can be heard, I lose all hope in District Three.

But when nothing happens, except for what appears to be children screaming, my interest is peaked once more, and I sit slightly more erect in my seat, wondering what could be going on.

"Savvy Mcreevy? Are you here dear?" It's only a few moments after the escort calls out again, that Peacekeepers can be seen making their way into one of the sections, and after that it's only a few more moments before chaos erupts as a smaller girl appears to be...well actually it's quite clear she just punched that peacekeeper in the stomach.

The girl fights offs a few peacekeepers, which is actually quite impressive, before one comes up behind her and pulls her arms behind her back.

Savvy is quickly dragged on to the stage, where she is placed beside a very concerned looking Maelle. Something is whispered in Savvy's ear as she is sat down, and when the peacekeeper let's go of her, she stops resisting, standing almost obediently, a very contrasting behaviour when compared to her just a few seconds ago. Though it's not hard to understand why she behaves when a few moments later the children's screaming abruptly cuts off, and Savvy finally breaks down, knees wobbling as tears spill down her face.

The escort looks completely unaffected, as if she hadn't witnessed anything, as she switches to the boys bowl, wasting no time before announcing the name in the mic.

"Zeno King," she chimes, and it only takes a matter of seconds before an older boy is making his way to the stage.

Zeno is, well he's not typical for District Three, he's, well alright if he was a little bit older I'd have no problem getting into bed with him. Apparently I'm not the only one to think so, as I hear more swoons from the ladies in the room for Zeno then I did for either District One boy, which is quite impressive for him.

Clearly the boy is well aware of his looks as well, as he confidently walks to the stage, a smug smirk all over his face.

I'd swear someone was going to faint as he climbs the steps and winks at the camera before taking his place beside a still shaking Savvy.

The boy is going to be a favourite in the Capitol, that much was obvious, he was sexy, and smug, and apparently comes from one of the Capitols favourite Districts.  
>It doesn't surprise me when Zeno beats out several of the careers on the favourites poll, including Raleigh.<p>

Even the escort finds it hard to take her eyes off the boy, as she struts back over to retrieve the next and final slip.

"Toby Alvarez," she announces, still stealing subtle glances towards Zeno.

Toby is the first tribute stood close enough to the stage for the camera to pick up on his peers slowly stepping away from his, as he stands amongst the other 13 year olds, eyes wide, and mouth hanging open.

"Toby, could you come to the stage cutie?" Toby's only response is to start breathing abnormally, in quick, and loud gasps as if he had just resurfaced from the bottom of a lake.

The peacekeepers begin to move in on him, but just as their reaching him he seems to come back to life, slipping past them as he slowly walks towards the stage.

District Three is on a role this year, they've got the sympathy in Savvy, the sex appeal in Zeno, the respect for Maelle, and now they've got the cuteness factor in Toby. It's looking to be a very strong team this year, almost enough to justify the Capitol choosing District Three over a career District. Almost.

Toby doesn't say anything as he slowly takes his spot beside his fellow tributes, though he looks like one of those zombies I've seen in so many movies as of late, eyes blank and a sluggish walk.

The camera zooms out again, to show each of the tributes, and I almost have a sense of hope in District Three, one of the four could be our newest Victor, but I guess we'll have to wait and see.

My eyelids feel like they have doubled in weight by the time District Four appears on the screen, and I guess whoever edits these things knows that people tend to get bored at this point in the program, because they skip right past the repetitive escort and mayor speeches.

As soon as the forgotten name is called out, a girl is running to the stage screaming that she volunteers, elbowing anyone in her way as she makes for the stage.  
>It doesn't take her long to reach her destination, but when she does it's not hard to see that she's slightly out of breath.<p>

"Ebba Farley," she pants into the mic, a satisfied smile on her round face as she steps back behind the escort.

There's not much to the girl, other than her dread-headed hair, that looks absolutely hideous if you ask me. But that's not even what sticks out the most about her, it's her disgusting teeth that are shown whenever she smiles at the camera, they're yellow, crooked, and chipped. It's as if no one has ever introduced her to a tooth brush before. Ebba definitely wouldn't be getting any sponsors for her looks, and she obviously wasn't in the best shape, since she could barely run to the stage without heaving up a lung. Some people just were not cut out for the Hunger Games, and yet this silly girl was among the few who had volunteered for it!

The escort calls out another name, but the boy doesn't give the reaped any time to react, as he quickly makes his way to the stage.

Unlike Ebba, this boy has looks, with curly dark hair, and soft blue eyes to match, he was a looker for sure. But the occasional boo from the crowd told me he wasn't a very likeable guy, that and his stony face and gruff voice as he announces his name.

"Atlas Majors." So far, District Four was nothing special, and they only had one more tribute to make up for it.

The escort hasn't even fully read out the name as a smaller girl comes rushing towards the stage, smiling proudly as she bounces up and down, almost toddler like.  
>The girl looked to be the height of a 12 year old, but she came out of the 18 year old section, and besides her height, much like Ebba, there was nothing appealing about her appearance. She was bland, and that was not something District Four was known for.<p>

"Dierdre Lewell," the small girl yells into the mic, a little to excited to be normal. I almost wonder if there's something not quite right about her, either that or she's just an idiot and is actually super excited to be going into the Games!

Either way, the escort wraps up the Reaping, and the camera zooms out again to show all three tributes, and once again, I am let down by what District Four has offered up. Atlas is hot, but the boos have turned me off, and Ebba and Dierdre are just, well there's nothing there that gets me excited.

I hate to say this, but I think the Capitol made the right choice in not voting District Four into the top three.

My head begins to pound again, and I only close my eyes for a second when I hear the whisper.

"The stupid bitch can't even stay conscious enough to watch the Reapings, she's useless, why on earth is she Head Gamemaker?"

I open my eyes almost instantly, searching the crowd for whoever said such a thing, but no one makes it obvious, all of their attention directed back on the screen where I can only assume District Five is being shown.

I can't stay in this room any longer though, no matter what Vivian says, I can't do it. I won't sit there and be tormented by those idiots any longer. What I need is a drink.

The thought stirs something inside of me, maybe their right? Maybe I am useless, I have been called it enough in my life. I can't even go an hour without drinking for fucks sakes, but they don't know me, they don't know what I've been through.

I don't even realize I'm shaking until I pull my phone out of my pocket and watch it slip through my vibrating fingers.

I'm not useless, I can do this, I can, and I will.

I just won't drink, it can't be that hard right?

"I'll start right now," I whisper to myself as I walk straight passed the bar, and towards the exits doors, but then I think of her and my body subconsciously turns around and walks straight back into the bar, tears cascading down my face.

I can't do this.

* * *

><p><strong>Xander, Male, Head Gamemaker<strong>

**Reapings District 5-8**

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>The clock on the side of the mahogany wooden wall struck the 12, setting off chimes that rang throughout the room, indicating that a new hour had begun. I glanced quietly around the large room, taking in the intricate designs of the patters on the walls and the carved shapes of the wood. The large, flat screen television is mounted on the wall in front of the couch that I currently sit on, a commercial broadcasting advertising a make-up a removal product.<p>

The Reapings for District Four had just come to a close, and now idiotic and irrelevant commercials were playing on the screen before me. Commercials bored me to no end, as I'm sure they bore most sane people, so I chose to ignore them and rather stare blankly at the walls waiting for my program to return.

Most Capitolites would be out partying and celebrating the broadcasting of the Reapings, but I am unlike the average Capitol person. I prefer to stay at home, alone, in the confines of my rather grand penthouse apartment and study the tributes individually as they are called to the stage one by one.

If I am to torture and potentially kill some of these teenagers right in front of me on this large screen, they deserve at least my attention for an hour or so as they are called up to their death. I may as well study them while I'm at it too, because who knows, I may be able to use what I see to my advantage to gain that all important Head Gamemaker position.

I am suddenly startled when something brushes up against the side of my leg. I bend over and peer into the eyes of my black cat, Mystic. I lean down and pick her up by her belly and place her on my lap as I begin to stroke her as she purrs happily.

It's rather depressing that I have Mystic with me as she was once Genova's lovely black kitten. But sadly, Genova could no longer take care of the mysterious cat.

Speaking of Genova, I am still unsure of what has happened to her. Executed, probably. Or worse. She could very possibly be being tortured in a basement at this exact moment, and knowing that I am the one that put her there is rather… unsettling.

As morbid as it sounds, I am rather glad that Genova was the one that was pursued and caught and not me. Better someone else be tortured and executed than me, even if it was my long time assistant and friend. Sometimes I do miss her constant chatter and mindless giggles, but alas those times are gone and there is nothing I can do now about that other than take care of the last remaining thing I have of her- Mystic.

The flat screen television suddenly lights up with apparent enthusiasm and I am greeted with the face of the lovely Capitol presenter who is announcing and following the Reapings are they are aired.

"And we are back from the short commercial break," the announcer says. His sandy brown hair is slicked back so that his unusually large forehead is protruding front and center on the screen. "We will continue the Reapings for the Fourth Quarter Quell right now with the broadcasting of District Five's Reapings, Please enjoy and feel free to start placing your bets on these tributes and all of the other ones that you have already had the pleasure of seeing!"

The announcer's pale and unappealing face is soon replaced with the words 'District Five' written in electric blue dancing across the screen. The words fade away and the wooden stage that belongs to District Five is shown. The Mayor is already at the microphone at center stage. Wasting no time, he begins to read the Treaty of Treason and I immediately tune him out. I have no time for trivial little speeches that I've heard hundreds of times.

When the incredibly boring speech concludes, the Escort for District Five replaces the slightly older Mayor at the microphone and begins the process for which I've been waiting.

"Hello District Five!" The Escort screams into the microphone expecting a large and excited response from the crowd, but instead he receives nothing more than a cough and a sneeze from the sea of district citizens. His enthusiasm visibly falters, but he regains his composure and plasters the fake smile back on his overly stretched face. "As you all know, this is the Fourth Quarter Quell. This year, the Capitol has voted on how many tributes each District will be sending in. District Five was in the third tier for the voting and will not be receiving any chance to the number of tributes you usually send in. Without further ado, I will now reap the two tributes that will attend the 100th Annual Hunger Games!"

The Escort walks over to one of the Reaping bowls on the stage and dips his long, pasty arm into the bowl. After shuffling the papers around for longer than he should, he grabs the first slip and carefully walks back to center stage, unfolding the small piece of paper as he moves.

"Aluma Rye!"

The sixteen year old section begins to part down the middle and suddenly a girl is exposed. Nothing about the appearance of the girl stands out or screams unique. Her curly black hair runs down her back and bounces as she silently walks towards the steps of the stage. I cannot register any sort of emotion on her face; she doesn't cry, she doesn't scream, and she doesn't look surprised at the fact that she was reaped.

By the time she gets up to the stage, I can see her facial features more clearly. Her face and body posture says that she's not afraid, but her brown eyes scream terrified, and that she isn't ready to face all of the other tributes in the arena.

"Wonderful, thank you for coming to the stage quickly," the Escort comments, and quickly shuffles his way back over to the second Reaping bowl. Once again, he takes far too long to grab just a single slip of paper, and when he finally brings it back to the microphone I am ecstatic that this Reaping is almost over.

"Gideon Challene."

Immediately a dry, hoarse laugh is heard from the sea of sixteen years olds, followed by what sounds to be like wails. The camera struggles to find where the Reaped boy is, but the camera quickly does its job after the sixteen year olds clear the area from where the Reaped boy is, as if he has some contagious disease.

After the camera finds him, I notice Gideon is on his knees, slamming his fists into the dirty ground as his body racks with the sobs that are escaping from his mouth. The boy makes no attempt to get up and come to the stage, so the Peacekeepers are forced to intervene. One Peacekeeper rushes faster than the others and manages to pull the boy up from his knees, and it appears he may have said something to Gideon as he was helping him up. It appears we have an interesting relationship there, as Peacekeepers don't often fraternize with District people.

As Gideon is being escorted to the stage, I can assess his features more clearly. He is of average height, but he is definitely underweight. No surprise there, as most lower district people are malnourished. He has short cropped black hair and as the camera zooms in on his face, I can see that he also has brown eyes, much like Aluma.

The Peacekeepers drop him onto the stage and, thankfully, he stands up instead of staying on his knees and crying some more.

"District Five, your tributes for the Fourth Quarter Quell- Aluma Rye and Gideon Challene!"

Aluma and Gideon shake hands quickly and as the Escort guides them off the stage, the screen goes black. District Five is now complete, now time for District Six's Reapings to commence.

"How wonderful was that?" I am displeased to see the announcer's face back onto the screen as I was expecting District Six to commence straight away. Perhaps they are changing it up this year. "Aluma and Gideon definitely seem like contenders, maybe District Five will manage to snag a victor this year! Without further delay, here is the ever fantastic District Six and their Reapings!"

The face of the presenter fades away slowly and is replaced with silver and bronze letters spelling out "District Six." Soon, the writing also fades away and I suddenly am viewing the grey and rather dull sky of District Six.

Instead of watching the Mayor and listen to his boring speech and the Escort's boring introduction, I choose to flip the channels around and watch whatever might be on at this time, daring to try and get ratings against the Reapings for a Quarter Quell. I settle on a cooking show and watch the host explain how to make a cinnamon dough, which does look delightful.

After several minutes of watching dough be made, I flip the channel back to the Reapings station and, behold, the Reapings are about to commence. Once again, there are two glass Reaping bowls to represent how many tributes this district will be reaping, and the Escort sashays over to the first bowl and dips her long, slender fingers into the bowl. She grasps onto a small slip of paper and makes her way back over to the microphone at the center of the stage.

"Tatum Albright."

Yet again, another sixteen year old has been reaped. They all move away from the Reaped girl, and soon the camera zooms in on her and allows me to see her reaction very clearly. She does begin to walk towards the stage without any assistance from the Peacekeepers, which is always a good sign, but I can see silent tears of worry streaming down the side of her pale cheeks. Definitely not as strong as she would like to appear to be.

Her light brown hair is tied up into a very high ponytail and her light blue skirt is blowing with the breeze. When she takes her place on stage next to the overly vivacious escort, I can see all of her limbs violently shaking, causing her hair to bounce uncontrollably and making her seem like she is very weak.

"Onto the next one." The Escort makes her way over to the second bowl that is filled with even more District Six citizen's names, and this time she quickly plucks a slip out of the bowl and makes her way back to where she feels most comfortable: center stage.

"Aston Moroque."

Breaking the streak of sixteen year olds being sent to the Games, the fifteen year old section splits apart and a boy of average height and weight is revealed. Adding onto his already average appearance is an even more average look: Short dark brown hair, brown eyes that are seen once the camera pans in, and an average looking face. Nothing screams unique or memorable, which may help the kid in the Arena, but certainly won't help him win over any sponsors. I notice the poor boy is shaking as he finishes reaching the stage, matching the already shaking Tatum.

The escort asks them to shake hands for the cameras, and once they do, the screen fades to black and this time, the announcer isn't seen on screen in between the Districts. Must be short on time.

My eyes are now watching letters appear on the screen in brown and green writing, symbolizing the many trees and the nature setting that District Seven provides. The camera pans down from the and sky and we are greeted with the maple and oak trees that surround the District Seven Square. Apparently because they are running short on time in this segment, they cut the Mayor giving his speech and the Escort introducing herself.

Her legs are visibly struggling to walk in those ridiculously high heeled shoes, and she does eventually trip slightly as she walks towards the first Reaping Bowl, which gains quite a few chuckles and sneers from the crowd of eighteen year olds right in front of the stage. However, the Escort recovers and gains her balance and manages to make it to the first bowl without anymore mishaps, grabbing a slip by the fingernails and pulling it out, making other small pieces of paper spill out of the bowl. She wobbles back over to center stage and carefully unfolds the slip of paper containing the name of the first tribute reaped.

"Lavender Vargas."

A section towards the back of the crowd, the fourteen year old section I believe, parts around a rather small and what looks to be a malnourished girl. She appears to have plain features; medium length brown hair, brown eyes, average face, and it appears she will be rather forgettable. As if reading my thoughts, she makes herself stand out more than she ever would have when she punches a peacekeeper that came towards her in the lower regions and makes the poor officer of peace drop to his knees in pain.

Seeing this as her only opportunity, she begins to run away from the stage and towards the outer edges of the crowd, probably to some family member that she wants to go to for comfort. However, before she can get remotely close to the barricades, more Peacekeepers flock around her and eventually overpower her, dragging her and her aggressive nature all the way to the stage. They plop her down next to the Escort and she stands on the stage, arms crossed, eyes shooting daggers at the Escort who has now moved on to the second Reaping bowl.

"Shay Langford."

This time, the fifteen year old section begins to part around a young boy that is quaking with fear and begins to shrink under the harsh eyes of the District people and the cameras all projecting him on the screen behind the stage. However, when he sees the Peacekeepers moving towards him from both sides, he picks himself up and brushes the dirt off of his pants, and then begins to walk all the way to the stage, slowly, but at least the Peacekeepers didn't have to drag him there.

When he gets to the stage, the camera zooms in on his face and I am met with a pasty skinned young boy. He has shortened brown hair and green eyes, and he seems rather small for someone of his age, even slightly smaller than the younger girl that was just reaped before him. As he stands on stage, I can see him looking out towards the crowd but at what I cannot be certain.

The camera quickly pans from the two already reaped tributes back to the Escort, who is now back at the microphone at center stage and is carefully unfolding the white tiny slip of paper with her delicate and manicured fingers.

"Phoebe Ryder."

A few of the males in the older sections wolf whistle and whip their heads back towards the middle of the crowd, towards the sixteen year old section. The teenagers in that section begin to shift and move away from the reaped girl, and eventually she is found amongst the crowd and camera angles in so we can see her.

She is a rather attractive person for someone of her age, and I can understand why the wolf whistles were uttered. She is wearing a rather revealing set of clothing, and the way she walks doesn't help to denounce the image I've already gotten in my head about her. She walks confidently and steadily towards the stage where the Escort is clapping with delight at the prospect of having reaped a girl with a chance at the crown.

Phoebe's long, light brown hair is flowing with the breeze as she stands on the stage next to Shay and Lavender, and gives a wink to someone that I cannot identify. Clearly, someone of importance that she wanted to give a subtle hint to that she was okay and wasn't afraid of what was to come. This girl definitely has potential, if she can play her cards correctly.

"Our final tribute is up next!" The Escort practically squeals with delight as she carefully and steadily shuffles her feet in those high heels over to the last remaining bowl and plucks out one last slip of paper from the bowl. She quickly shuffles her way back to the microphone and opens up the slip of paper with a high amount of care.

"Regan Volke."

The Escort practically falls off the stage in excitement as the front of the crowd begins to part around a rather strong looking eighteen year old. The camera zooms in onto Regan's face and I can see a smile curling at the edges of his lips. Soon enough, he is laughing a hearty and maniacal laugh that does send shivers down my spine. It's very clear that he isn't sane and that someone is very excited at the prospect of being able to kill many people without any repercussions.

As he walks up to the stage I can see that he has rather longer black hair for a boy, and he has brown eyes that are sending daggers to the crowd as he walks towards Phoebe, who is visibly disturbed at the laughter that Regan let escape from his lips. He continues chuckling as the Escort introduces the tributes from District Seven for one last time.

"District Seven, your tributes for the Fourth Quarter Quell- Lavender Vargas, Shay Langford, Phoebe Ryder, and Regan Volke!"

The screen once again fades away to black, but it is immediately replaced by orange and black cursive handwriting spelling out District Eight. This is the last reaping before another break in between the final four districts, which are only reaping a small amount of tributes anyways.

"Eira Gray."

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as the first tribute from Eight has already been reaped. I'm surprised that they are going so fast with the Reapings, but I guess they must really be very short on time because usually they show the Escort getting the paper from the bowl, or maybe I just zoned out and didn't watch that part.

The girl that is reaped is from the seventeen year old section, and looks malnourished. She is of average height for someone of her age and District, and she has long black hair that she has tied back into some sort of intricate braid. She appears to be thinking about something for a long time as she just stands there with no emotion on her face and nothing appears to be inclining her to move towards the stage.

The Peacekeepers have no choice but to flock around her and force her towards the stage as the blank, pensive look on her face remains on her face and doesn't change the whole time. They silently place her on the stage next to the Escort who is staring at Eira with a confused look on her face. She quickly shakes the confused look on her face off and replaces it with a flashing smile, and makes her way over to the second bowl to reap the next tribute.

"Armada Pruitt."

The thirteen year old section all the way in the back of the square begins to part. A small boy makes his way out of the crowd of other little children and begins to walk forward with almost no hesitation. He seems very composed and I cannot see any sense of urgency or sadness in his facial expression or body language. He gets to the stage rather quickly and takes his place next to Eira, who still has not changed his expression. His brown eye are hardened as he looks out into the crowd, and the breeze begins to blow against his short, light brown hair.

"Avrie L'reaux."

The name peaks my interest completely, as it doesn't sound like something you'd normally hear from District Eight. However, the girl does look slightly malnourished ad the camera pans over to her pale face and body, and I can definitely tell she is from this District. Her fiery red hair is straightened and flows down her back in a cascading fiery waterfall.

She walks up silently to the stage and doesn't make a scene like some other tributes would have, and she stands next to Armada, towering over him. In fact, she is rather tall for someone of her district, age, and gender. Maybe that can play to her advantage.

"District Eight, your tributes for the Fourth Quarter Quell- Eira Gray, Armada Pruitt, and Avrie L'reaux!"

The screen fades to black once more and I quickly get up from my seat and wander into the kitchen, opening the starch white fridge and finding the large bottle of expensive wine. I pop the cork open and pour myself a generous helping of wine, and store the wine back in the fridge to chill it.

As I wander my way back into the room where my television is placed, I take a large sip from my glass of win and stare at the bottom of it. This is the first of many glasses I'll be having over the course of the next few weeks. This will be the longest Games of my life…

* * *

><p><strong>Roan, Male, Head Gamemaker<strong>

**Reapings District 9-12**

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>"What do you think so far, sir?" Devan asks me eagerly. "Anyone in particular that has caught your eye?"<p>

"Of course," I answer simply, not wavering my gaze from the screen that takes up the entire wall of my office. Though there is a slight intermission, and of course I don't mean to be rude to him, I am not the type to share my thoughts with anyone. Especially Devan, who can come off as far too eager to please for my tastes. I had hoped I would've been able to choose my own assistant, but Devan was waiting for me here as soon as I had gotten the keys to the room.

Nonetheless, he reminds me of myself. What little I have allowed myself to learn about the boy's history is almost an exact replication of my own. One year after I was given the job in the Muttations Lab, Devan began work in the coding lab where the arena is born out of pure mathematical and scientific processes. It's truly a gift to be able to manipulate all of the different aspects that make up an arena, so if nothing else I know that I will have a leg up on the other two Gamemakers at least in this sense.

I chuckle to myself, covering my smile with a slight cough as I notice Devan turning towards me. We've proved already to make quite the team. I put Devan to work, crafting plans to present at the meeting next week, late last night only to be woken up a couple hours later by a frantic phone call. Apparently Devan was able to pinpoint another user attempting to access the files he was creating.

He told me he could easily override their system and, assuming that the hacker was working for one of Gemma or Xander, wipe their database. I, however, chose to be kind. Maybe it was the flattery that someone would go to all that trouble to try and steal an idea that they knew, without even seeing it, would be better than theirs.

I told Devan to cache the files containing anything he has worked on the past few nights and replace it with something he thought fitting. I knew as soon as Devan decided on placing the coding for the third Hunger Games arena as a decoy that he and I would work marvellously together. Not only will whoever it is look foolish for suggesting an arena that has already been done exactly, but the coding has progressed so far in these ninety-seven years that their competency will also be questioned.

Why give my colleagues any reason to seek revenge on me for wiping their computer systems when it would be so much more appropriate to watch them destroy themselves with their own stupidity.

Against Gemma and Xander, this was never going to be a fair race. I hope they do better to try and outdo me in the future, because it was almost sad for them to think that I would not have my files cached in such a way that even if Devan wouldn't have seen the intrusion that they would have been able to find my plans. Truthfully I hope this effort was from Gemma, I would expect something this juvenile from the lightweight drunk. I hope to have more competition with Xander, otherwise this entire thing is going to be exceedingly boring.

"Welcome back to the Reapings for the Fourth Quarter Quell! We have already met our courageous tributes that will be representing districts one through eight, but there are still five more brave young men and women to acknowledge. Now sending you lovely people over to District Nine, I'm Aeries Coloumb of Panem News."

Devan nudges me and I shoot him a glare, wiping the eager smile off of his lips. He bows his head sheepishly and whispers, "it's back on, sir."

"Thank you," I say without turning away from the screen. While I admire Devan's go-getter attitude, I know that it is also going to annoy me to no end during the next few weeks. While I might not appreciate his disposition, I don't quite want to snap him out of it either. Truthfully, I know it will serve him well over the next few years in this field of work. There is nothing the higher-ups like more than feeling important, and Devan is quite good at doing just that.

District Nine is exactly how I remember it being in each year past, nothing but the bleak, dusty sort of building that is the trademark of every district. The Justice Building and a very small area of what is beyond it is all that viewers are able to see each year. I understand that the typical Capitolite will not wonder about what is past that small area, but I haven't been able to help it ever since I was a child watching the Reapings.

Perhaps that is something else that will separate myself from Gemma and Xander. The fact that I understand that the tributes we are sent each year are real people with families, issues, hopes, and fears, just like people here. I see so many Head Gamemakers fall victim to just thinking that the Hunger Games viewers respond to violence. A large part of the competition is simply that, but after years of watching, both the tributes and people's reactions to them, I have formulated the perfect approach to balancing the violence with good television.

Make the audience fall in love with the tributes as characters in a story. Force them to feel for their heightened emotions, to have their hearts race when his or her favourite is in danger, to have real tears come to their eyes as they listen to them form relationships with their allies. I want to make them think of these tributes are real children. Then and only then will I rip them away by any violent or gruesome end I see fit.

"The Fourth Quarter Quell has dictated that only one tribute will be sent from District Nine this year, so a single name will be drawn from a bowl containing all eligible names," Henna reads with an almost robotic-like voice. I remember hearing that we had a couple of new escorts being sent into the outer districts this year to see how they do. By the looks of things, Henna will not be back next year. She is a lovely young girl, probably no older than twenty, with a face like porcelain and lips the color of rubies, but escorts are supposed to be charismatic to the nth degree and more. Henna is anything but, standing there shaking in her five inch heels, her knees knocking together as if she too belonged in that District Nine crowd instead of onstage.

She looks up, and I begin to think that her looks alone might allow her to keep this job, but then speaks again with possibly less emotion than before. "I will now draw the first and only name."

She steps over carefully to the single glass bowl sitting in the middle of the stage. "Representing District Nine we have, Matilda Prescott. Would you please come forward?"

It doesn't take the camera very long to find the girl, a rather pretty blonde who I guess to be about seventeen or so, standing near the outer edge of the crowd. The girl beside her looks distraught as Matilda digs her nails into her arm, finally pulling away from her as Matilda begins to walk around to the stage.

The room around me is silent, a perfect match to the atmosphere I am witnessing in District Nine as their only tribute makes the walk to centre stage. After a few steps, quiet laughter can be heard coming from the girl. Not an unusual reaction to the news that out of all the eligible children around you, your name has been called. The odds aren't favoured for it to be one particular person, but someone has to be picked each year. That seems to be lost to the district people, that no matter how unlikely it is- someone still is chosen every year. One should prepare for the possibility so they don't shoot their chances so quickly like Matilda may have.

Poor reactions make tributes look weak, and weak tributes hardly ever do well.

"She seems like she could do well," Daven says, just as he has in more or less the same words for every tribute that has been chosen since the Reapings began. I can understand his neutrality on his expression of opinion, seeing as his superior is sitting right beside him.

I decide to remedy his uncertainty this time. "She appears nervous, which means she is likely to be weak."

"That's what I thought too," he says sheepishly and I almost feel bad for responding at all. That is the problem with Devan, he is too childish to take seriously but I feel sorry for snapping at him all the same.

I ignore the feeling that I should apologize and turn back to the screen, gone is the dreary image of Matilda and Henna- the perfect image, it seems, of District Nine's continuous failure in the Hunger Games. Instead I see an almost identical picture, but the faint sound of cowbells that fills both my office and the district tells me that we are now on District Ten.

I don't remember the name of the District Ten escort, though I believe she is from last year at least. She is older and I have to admit less beautiful than Henna, but the smile on her face is what I would expect of someone in her position. Her lace-gloved hands are daintily paired in front of her and she addresses the crowd with an almost sickeningly sugary voice.

"This year, for the Fourth Quarter Quell, District Ten has the honour of once again sending in one brave young man and one courageous young woman to represent their home. Without any further a due, I will draw the lucky young lady's name."

This girl, whoever she is, could certainly teach Henna a thing or two about addressing an audience. Though I must admit, I think as I look at the rather plain looking lace dress draping across her shoulders, Henna does have a step up in the looks department.

"This year, Miss Corlis Kembrey will be representing District Ten." She reads, her lips curling more and more with each word. "Where are you, sweetheart?"

There is a shriek from the crowd and out of the corner of my eye I can see Devan flinch. I chuckle as the affair unfolds on the screen. The camera is able to catch only the back of a tall blonde girl's head as she makes a dash for the exit before she disappears entirely. The crowd gasps and a trio of white-clad Peacekeepers rush in to retrieve her. Within seconds they pull the pretty blonde off of the ground and into the aisle.

When the cameras are able to take a more stable view of the girl, it is easy to see the bloody scrape on her left knee as well as the defeated look plastered on her pale face. The Peacekeepers drop her off at the base of the stage and the microphone just barely picks up the quiet 'thank you' that escapes from her lips.

"How darling!" The escort says, eyeing Corlis with what is probably a pretty terrifying look up close. It never seems to reflect well on a tribute when they run, though there is always at least one or two a year that try it. "Now to choose the young man that will accompany Miss Kembrey to the Capitol."

"I invite Hunter Mathot to please join me on the stage here, please," she says, her face not quite returning to the wide smile she had before Corlis' scene. She looks around expectantly for a moment before her eyes light up.

The screen moves to show a rather handsome looking boy, probably no older than sixteen or seventeen, striding towards the stage, his face the very picture of calm. That is what it would look like to most people that were watching, but I can recognize the look in his eyes not as calm but as something else altogether. Smug, the kid actually has managed to look like it was him that planned his own Reaping all along. Since the intermission, this is the first tribute that has caught my eye. This guy has the visible mentality of a Victor.

The image of District Ten fades from the screen a few seconds after Hunter reaches the stage, a look of visible disgust on his face when asked to shake his district partner's hand.

"I can tell you like one of them, sir," Devan says as the screen prepares to dive into District Eleven. "That look in your eye tells me so."

"We will all have our favourites, Devan," I say simply. "That's how Victors are born."

The scene in District Eleven is much bleaker than any of the other districts. I remember this district well, being one of two that I had the pleasure of visiting when going on research term for my technician's course. I spent a month living out of a hovercraft with another student, studying some of the only wildlife that has remained untouched by Panem for so many decades. The creatures I came by shed so much light on a subject I hadn't been initially sure I wanted to pursue. The mutts I have created since that expedition have been not only terrifying and bloodthirsty, but also majestic and dare I say real. They were not just programmed beasts that would kill, they had routines and niches that made them just as incredible to watch as the Hunger Games themselves.

But sadly one of the other things I remember from that trip, despite only having briefly spent time in the actual district, was that it was the most poorly kept part of Panem that has ever existed. There are great crowds of people in the streets at all hours, only spots of white Peacekeepers to keep things civil. I've never seen someone starving before that, it just simply does not happen in the Capitol, but I saw all too much of it there.

I almost feel happiness for the child that will be chosen today, because at least they will not be returning back to that hell-bent place to waste away with the rest of their peers.

"And now it has come that time again where I will choose the brave young person that will alone represent District Eleven in the Fourth Quarter Quell." Another new escort, this time at least she appears to have some sort of handle on her nerves. I can understand why these new escorts were given the districts that only had to reap a single tribute each, otherwise I would fear one of them collapsing from the shear excitement.

"This year's lucky tribute that will bear District Eleven's pride on their back in this year's Hunger Games is," she says, taking a bit too long of a dramatic pause. "Winifred Herring."

For a second there is only silence, before my head is nearly split in two by what might possibly be the highest-pitched scream I have ever had the displeasure of hearing in my lifetime. Then it starts again, the seemingly unavoidable chase that the young girl forces the Peacekeepers on. I can hardly catch a good view of her as she darts between the white-clad men, switching directions continuously until by simple good luck she runs directly into one of them.

Again she shrieks, a sickening sound, and punches at air while trying desperately to land a small fist on her capturer. The Peacekeeper, who looks almost as unhappy about holding the young girl as she seems to be about being held, hands her off to another who whispers something in her ear. She screams again and then suddenly her limbs stop flailing and her eyes half-close.

To most it would seem as if the young girl simply ran out of energy, but anyone that was really looking would have seen the tranquilizer bury into her shoulder. Of course, no one but me is likely to be watching closely enough to see that minute detail.

"Two runners in the last few districts, seems like a pattern's developing," Devan tries in vain to copy my arrogant tone. "Two weak ones, I guess."

"Not quite," I say, my face breaking out in a slight smile despite myself. "The first girl, Corlis, made it probably six to ten feet at most. Winifred nearly outran and outsmarted a troop of Peacekeepers. The fact that she almost got away, well, I'll let you figure out what that means for yourself."

Devan sighs beside me and I chastise myself for being so hard on him. Of course I know that he is only trying to win my approval, but he should know that that is not something that is very easily gained.

The last district always seems to be the most boring of all of them. No matter that Districts Ten and Eleven always seem to have rather weak tributes, but those from District Twelve tend to be just plain bland. At least the weak ones are able to be broken and moulded into a character, albeit far too easily, but the bland ones are nearly unchangeable. Oh well, at least there is only one of these District Twelve tributes to deal with this year.

"This year, District Twelve has the honour of sending just one tribute to represent their lovely home in the 100th Hunger Games." This escort I recognize from previous years. Jule is one of the older escorts, around age forty or so, and also likely one of the best. She has gone through probably countless surgeries to achieve the looks of a woman in her early-twenties, the only thing to give her away being her impossibly stiff smile.

One dainty hand pulls a slip of paper off the top of the pile contained within the single Reaping bowl. With a sigh she allows her eyes to glaze slowly over the writing before she clears her throat and claims her tribute. "Representing District Twelve this year will be Miss Xylia Devrine. Is she here?"

It takes a couple of minutes before Xylia can be identified, since no one in the crowd seems to move a muscle. Finally, a thin girl with dark hair piled on top of her head steps out into the aisle and the cameras immediately are upon her. She wears a blank expression, lips pressed into a tight line that is just barely visible with the sun shining on her pale face. There is not a sound to be heard as she steps quickly up the steps to meet Jule on the stage.

I flick the screen off and Devan flinches again. He looks at me expectantly and I calmly pull my chair back behind my desk where it belongs. He looks lost for a while as I toy with the folders on my desk, then pull at the cord to turn my lamp on.

"Do you want to discuss the tributes, maybe some possibilities for arena modifications to fit with them individually? I could work up the plans for a few test models if you'd like to see them?"

"Actually, I'll do that. You may go work on the original coding that I assigned you last night." I say dismissively, nodding towards the shut door.

"Oh, um, but I finished that, sir," he says, the eagerness all but gone from his voice. I can understand that he wants to be as much a part of this as I am, but the plain truth is that he isn't.

"Then go fix the bugs in it, I checked this morning and found several," I say more sharply than I had meant to. I sit down at my chair and open one of my files, knowing that at one point or another he will get the hint and leave. I will not lie, I am beginning to like Devan, but I will not allow this possible friendship to get in the way of my profession. Work has and will always be more important than any relationship I could ever forge. I refuse to let anyone get in the way or my success, not ever again.

"I will do that," he says quietly, gathering up his things into a small briefcase and heading towards the exit. "Goodnight, sir."

Then the door closes and I am left to myself and my work, just how it has always been and just how I like it.

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Prisoner of Today by Billy Talent.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi all, it's Olive again. I hope you enjoyed reading the (always terrible to write) Reapings. Bad news is this chapter is out a couple days later than we had originally planned. Good news is the Reapings are done and over with and we can get on with much more interesting times. **

**I hope hearing from the Gamemakers again didn't bore you too much, but plan on hearing a bit more from them as the story progresses.**

* * *

><p><strong>Hopefully you will all drop a review and let us know what you thought, it would be very much appreciated to know how we are doing and how we can each improve as well as to hear the answers to the following questions. <strong>

_**Which tributes stood out the most?**_

_**Which tributes do you look forward to hearing from the most?**_

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><p><strong>Also a note to any of the submitters that recalls that their tribute was originally a non-Career volunteer. We decided that for the more realistic dive into the story we would wipe these and reap all tributes from outer districts. If you would like a better explanation I would be happy to provide one if you message me privately. <strong>

**Until next time. **


	5. Aces

**Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys**

_Are there some aces up your sleeve?  
>Have you no idea that you're in deep?<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Zeno King, 17, District Three<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>This place is unlike anything I have ever seen in my life. As I step onto the sturdy floor it is like I can feel the difference between my district life and the Capitol life. One being so unsteady and unsure, and the next being so certain and comfortable. Despite the events of the last hour, I can feel a blast of excitement coming over me.<p>

"Wow," one of the girls says as she steps into the car behind me. I can't remember either of the girl's names but I know this one is the older of the two. The younger one steps on right after her, tangled blonde hair covering most of her forehead. It's easy to tell that this one comes from the region south of mine, most of the kids that are from that area look like her- a little rough around the edges to say the least. The other two appear to be a bit more relatable to myself, primped and preened for Reaping day.

"Welcome, make yourselves at home," the escort woman coos, motioning her arms elaborately to show off the beautiful train car. "Everything here is here just for you."

I can't help but follow her motions, my eyes grazing over the trays of strange, small foods and the endless cushions and couches. I'd bet that at least twenty or more people could sit comfortably on here, and yet there is only the seven of us. Four tributes, two mentors, and one escort, though I think that her dress will probably need more than one seat to be contained.

The two girls move almost in sync towards opposite ends of the train car, the younger one taking a few tentative looks at the tray of food before grabbing some sort of bread with red gel coming out the top of it. Personally I'd say that the trays look more like art displays than food and I am less than keen on trying any of it for a while, at least until my stomach settles.

The older girl finds a quiet corner of the car and sits hesitantly on the edge of a comfy looking bench. She glances back at me and Toby before focusing herself on the passing trees that play endlessly from the window.

After a second or two, Toby too makes his way towards one of the window seats and I find myself following him.

"Uh, hi," he says when I move to sit down beside him.

"Hi," I reply quickly, then consider his awkward tone. "Sorry did you want to sit by yourself, kid?"

"No it's okay," he nods and bites his lip.

"So what's your name?" I ask even though I already know. I figure a question is probably better to break the ice than just outright telling him his own name. "I'm Zeno."

"I remember you," he nods again. "I'm Toby."

"Ah, nice name," I nod as well. I didn't realize how awkward this would be or else I probably would have left him alone. "How are you doing, Toby?"

He cracks a small smile. "Pretty alright, I guess. How about you?"

"I'm not going to lie, I'm doing a lot better than I thought I would. The nice accommodations are helping quite a bit too."

He nods and turns to the window. Without the awkward eye contact I am able to take him in a lot better, especially his size. He's a small guy, probably a good five or six inches shorter than me and a whole lot thinner as well. His skin is that dark olive tone that seems to be rare in the rather pale District Three. He is definitely the youngest of the four of us, but his demeanour tells me that he is probably also the most calm at the moment.

"How old are you, Toby?" I ask and almost immediately regret it when he doesn't answer right away.

Then, without looking away from the window he responds. "Thirteen."

I feel a pang of sadness by the way he says it, almost as an admission of guilt. I can understand it, I guess, seeing as the youngest Victor that I can recall ever winning the Hunger Games was fourteen, a year older than him. Still, I admire him for not crying. I remember being his age, crying was something I did a lot back then.

When I think about those times that I would get over emotional at a failed grade or a warning from my mother that my marks were slipping, I can't help but admire Toby just a little bit more. If he were my age I would want to be the one placing bets on his victory.

I decide not to pry anymore, mostly out of fear that I will get attached to Toby. He is a very interesting kid, someone that reminds me of Josh and Bria when I first met them. That scares me a lot more than it brings me closer to him though, because my own chances of getting out of the Games alive are fairly slim with the number of Careers that are going to be in the arena. Having a little one to look out for won't help me and unfortunately won't save him.

I drop my head against the wall beside me and stare out the window. No one else seems to be talking yet and maybe it is best if it stays like that for a little while. Not even one of the three of my fellow tributes seems like they will be a helpful ally so there is no use in getting close to them. Without anyone to talk to this is going to be a very long ride to the Capitol.

* * *

><p><strong>Ebba Farley, 18, District Four<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>My finger quickly taps at the arm of the chair, over and over again, it being the only noise to break the tension-filled silence of the room.<p>

Our mentors have left us alone to 'get to know each other' as they went to discuss strategy, which probably means they're off eating or getting drunk, who knows.

I don't really care much for either of my District partners, Dierdre is a little bit too excitable for my liking, and Atlas, well I've heard about him around District Four.

"This is just plain awkward," I joke, getting a small chuckle out of Dierdre. Atlas looks up, but stays silent, staring at me with harsh eyes.

"I've heard about you," I say, not backing down from his gaze.

Again he doesn't respond, other than a quick grin before returning his gaze to out the window.

"Yeah I'm out of here," I sigh, standing up and heading towards the door.

"Can I come?" Dierdre asks, and I nod in agreement.

We walk along the extended hallway, neither saying a word until it becomes uncomfortable.

"Atlas seems nice," Dierdre nods in response, her attitude definitely calming down since the reaping. When she volunteered, she was a little ball of energy, and even in front of our mentors she was happy as could be, but since being left alone with me and Atlas, she has dropped the smile and kept to herself.

I couldn't care less though, she can be as fake as she wants in front of the cameras, as long as she stays out of my way.

"What weapon do you use?"

"Bow," she mumbles almost hesitantly, beginning to slow down a little.

"Easier to kill, good choice."

I slow down as well, in order to keep in line with her, but she picks up speed, pulling away from me.

"Why did you come with me if you're gonna act like this?" I ask, though it's not really any of my concern.

"Would you wanna be left alone in a room with Atlas? And I'll have you know my bow takes as much skills to use as whatever pathetic weapon you use," she spits, and

I'm taken back. This girl needs to chill it with the mood swings.

"Trident."

"Excuse me?"

"I use a trident."

"How original," she chuckles, before turning on her heels and retreating into the nearest room.

What the heck just happened? One minute I was walking along the hall with a bearable girl, and the next I was being flipped on for no apparent reason!

Whatever, I think, walking past the door she had disappeared into, in search of something to do.

The first door I open reveals a large kitchen, many people hustling around. It's only a few seconds later that I'm being yelled at to get out.

Uninterested in pissing anyone else off, I quickly shut the door and continue my trek down the hall, until I stumble upon another door.

Pushing through, I'm pleasantly surprised to find what appears to be a dining room.  
>There's a large table set dead centre of the room, a large chandelier hung up just above it, and that's about it.<p>

There's a few small tables scattered around the room, but that's not what I'm interested in. I'm interested in the multi-level tray sat upon the table, filled with any and every treat I could imagine.

I rush over to it, wasting no time in inhaling the first thing my hand touches; a soft chocolate brownie with coloured pieces of chocolate covering the top.

It's so good, I can't help but grab another one, and another, until the whole tray is gone.

I move onto the next tray, stuffing what ever creme-filled pastry it is down my throat, not stopping until I've made a good dent in that tray too.

My stomach hurts, but I know I'll be hungry again shortly, that's something I've always dealt with, being hungry more than the average person, and therefore weighing more than the average person, but whatever, it is what it is.

A thought hits me just as I'm about to grab another pastry, how awesome would it be to be in my very position right now, but after a few tokes.

The munchies would be no match to this...well I don't even know what to call it, it's orgasmic!

If only Dylan or Maisie could see this, they'd have a heart attack, which would be kind of bad but that's not the point.

But no, none of them are brave enough to volunteer, so here I am, stuck on this stupid train with no one but Atlas and Dierdre for company. I'd rather stick to myself, and that's saying something because normally I hate being by myself.

I'm distracted by my thoughts when I look over at the window, and notice that it's been left open just a crack.

Idiots, they're lucky I actually want to be here, or I'd be throwing myself out that window in a heartbeat. Wait..

I rush over to the window, cranking it open enough to fit my whole head through, my dreads flying in the wind.

The adrenaline rush kicks in, and the warm feeling inside of me returns. This is where I'm happiest, on the edge, adrenaline running through my body.

I wonder how much of myself I can get out of this window...

I take a step back and push as hard as I can until the window is just about halfway open, then I turn around, grab the top of the window, and heave my body up until my top half is completely out the window, and my butt is sitting on the ledge.

Now this is the edge, I laugh as I fling my head back, bathing in the sun, and the wind, relishing in the adrenaline running through my body.

This makes everything worth it, volunteering, having to put up with Atlas and Dierdre for who knows how long. Had I not volunteered, I'd probably have never experienced this kind of rush, and I'm not even in the Games yet.

This is going to be the best time of my life.

* * *

><p><strong>Eira Gray, 17, District Eight<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>The Escort continues to blab nonsense at Armada, Avrie, and I as the train moves at an incredible rate. I look over at Avrie and can see that annoyance in her eyes, and I find myself having to contain a giggle. It's very clear that Avrie is bothered by our Escort, yet she continues to say useless things to us as if it is the most interesting thing on the planet.<p>

Only so long can I deal with mindless blabber, and I get up from the cushioned seat that I was seated in and walk towards the door to the train car. I hear the Escort falter at her words as she recognizes that I am leaving during her "important" conversation, but she continues on as if nothing has happened once I shut the door behind me.

I wander into the next train car, which is decorated even more lavishly than the main car that we were brought into when we first got onto this death train. I walk into the center of the car, in which there is a large, rectangular wooden table with polished black chairs all around it. There are plates littered on the table as well as dainty silverware that has been neatly placed next to the plates, forks to the right and spoons and knives to the left tucked over a napkin.

This certainly looks like a place where a lavish meal will be held, something that I don't get the opportunity to have often enough. With both mother and Tate dying… things had been rough, and still are. We can barely afford enough food to feed my other siblings, let alone always having a meal myself and giving my dad some food. If there is any upside to this at all, at least I can have a decent meal everyday until the day I die in the Games. Hopefully Dad is taking care of Decima and the rest of them…

My reminiscing of my family is cut short when I hear a small screech and the crash of plates falling to the floor. I rush over to the train car door at the opposite end of this car, and open it slightly to peer into the next room.

I am greeted with the sight of a bright red headed short girl with all red clothing, presumably meaning she is an Avox, being yelled at by a larger man in a black and white uniform. The man is profusely yelling at the smaller Avox, and I can see the spit flying into the girl's face. The poor girl looks absolutely terrified, and rightfully so, but the man is not backing down.

He is yelling at the girl so loudly that I'm surprised nobody else is coming to her aid to see what the commotion is. He's yelling at her about her work and how the precision is lacking, which shocks me considering the dining room looks simply stunning. Since she is an Avox, she cannot use her words to defend herself and is just taking everything that the rude man is dealing towards her. My maternal side starts to boil over, as this poor girl reminds me of my dead sibling Hart, who died because I couldn't help him. I don't want this girl to get hurt because of something I didn't do. Not another person has to suffer because of me.

"Why are you yelling at this girl?" I scream at the man as I barge through the door that leads into the next train car. "This dining room set up is immaculate and she clearly knows what she's doing, so shut the fuck up, and leave her alone." I'm surprised at my own tenacity, but I'm also proud of the fact that I stood up for this girl and tried to help her, unlike Hart.

"She's a useless piece of shit who can't even clean the dishes properly. She's a waste of space and I'll see to it that she gets a nice whipping back at the Capitol." The man, knowing that I am a tribute and he can't hurt me, backs away as I step in between him and the young Avox. He huffs and curses at me for getting involved, but barges through the train car and slams the door open, walking out of sight.

I turn around to face the young Avox girl, and she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, which I consider to be her way of showing me her thanks.

I grab her hand and lead her into the dining room and help her set the rest of the table as I talk to her about how good of a job she has done. I continue to describe to her about how well she did and even slip into some personal stories about my life in District Eight, much to her liking.

When the table is finished being set and my stories are finished being told, I wrap the little girl in one last embrace.

"I hope to see you again," I say as I let go of hugging her. "If you ever need help again, don't hesitate to come and find me. I'm Eira Gray of District Eight." She nods quickly and scurries out of the room, going back to wherever it is that the Avoxes go on this train.

I smile and strut out of the dining room, heading back into the dreadful environment of the main train car where my Escort is no doubt still blabbering. I'm glad I was able to help the Avox. If I'm going to die, at least I can die knowing I will join Hart wherever it is dead people go, and can tell him all about the fact that I helped someone when I couldn't help him.

* * *

><p><strong>Tatum Albright, 16, District Six<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>A pair of black shoes appears in front of me and I look up to see a man with red hair and a pale, decorated face looking down at me. He moves a tray in front of me, one that holds only a pretty box with tissues spilling out the top. I take a couple and nod a thank you to him, not wanting to speak out of fear that my voice will crack again.<p>

Ever since I stepped foot onto the train I have been unable to appreciate anything that was happening around me. Aston sat down beside me for a moment when we first got on the train after the Reaping, but I could not handle the company and asked him to leave me alone, probably in a less than ideal tone of voice. He seemed alright to go and speak with the mentors and escort, and has been doing that for a while now.

The only thing I have done so far since I have been on here is cry. One of the mentors tried speaking to me for a while, but even just seeing her face reminded me of where I was headed. Into a place that was going to do everything it possibly could to torment and then kill me. I'm sure I will be able to handle this later, when I have to. But right now I have no desire to interact with any of them, especially not Aston.

I still find it difficult to believe that it was my name that was called at the Reaping. The entire thing seems now like such a blur, I could not even recognize myself in the girl that walked up to the stage when I watched a few pieces of the recaps that were on the television. She looked like a zombie, a wide-eyed, teary zombie.

I sniffle into the tissues when I think of the goodbyes that were said to my parents when they came to see me in the Justice Building. Unlike the Reaping I remember that part clearly, everything from the tight hug that they enveloped me in up until the moment when my little sister, Tegan, slipped off her little bracelet and wrapped it twice around my index finger.

I bring the bracelet up to examine it, a thing red string with a broken bell dangling off of it. I remember making fun of Tegan when she brought it home from her first day of school, telling her that the bell wasn't made of gold like she told my mother it was. More tears come to my eyes. That is what Tegan is going to remember me as, and even so she still thought to give me my token.

At this point I am not even sure what I am crying about. I don't even think it is because I am going to miss District Six, in all honesty it was no secret that I hated it there. Of course I will miss my parents and my little sister, but I can't even say they were my world or that I will be lost if I'm separated from them.

The reason I cry is selfishness, and that makes me cry even harder. I cry because I can bet that they will miss me even though I made life exceptionally difficult for them most of the time. In the back of my head I guess I thought I would have more time to be a better daughter and sister later. Everything else was just so much more interesting now. Friends, boys, and just hanging out. Family isn't supposed to be cool right now, but how much I wish it would have been.

I'm leaving my family and I think I'm more scared that they are not missing me than I am about leaving.

Not that I could blame them if they didn't. I was hardly ever home anyway, I never cared about them.

I'm not sad, I'm regretful. I'm only sixteen, I've never appreciated what I had, and now I am going to die without even having gotten the chance to be the person I want to be remembered as. It's not fair and yet it is by some poetic means. To die before I have even lived the life I wanted to and yet to have been sixteen years into my life and still not be a person I am proud to have people remember.

* * *

><p><strong>Shay Langford, 15, District Seven<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>I stack another one of the strange fruity pastries on top of the stack that is nearly two feet tall by now, held together by two forks standing upright. I found that as food they taste strange to me, even though Regan seems to have no restraints about eating them, but as building material they are perfect.<p>

I begin positioning another fork on top of the stack, playing around until I can get two of the points to straddle the end of the second fork. Its menial work but at least it keep my mind quiet. I am much better at working with things that are actually here than I am at trying to sort through the mess of emotions that claw at the edges of my mind.

"What are you doing?" The male mentor interrupts me and the fork clatters onto the table, attracting the attention of everyone in the cart. My face feels hot and I shrug, not really knowing any way to explain my pastry tower that won't sound childish.

"It looks kind of cool," Lavender says as she prances over to the table form her window seat. "How did you get it to stand up so straight? Wouldn't they fall?"

My mouth feels too dry to formulate a response. I can still feel the mentor looking at me even though he has returned to his chair. I shrug and lift one of the forks, hoping that she will understand without me having to say it.

"So cool," she says and stands up, scurrying over to the other end of the cart. My heart drops when I realize that she is probably bored out of her mind already. I thought for a second that we might be able to talk or something. I haven't spoken more than a few words to anyone, and Regan was probably not the best choice to speak to anyway. Even with six other people in this cart it feels like we are all segregated.

I can feel the smile break out on my face when I see her hurrying back with another tray of the pastries I had been using to make the tower. "Can you show me? I'm getting sort of bored looking out the window. You seem to be having a bit more fun over here."

"Sure!" I say, probably with a little too much excitement. I push my larger tower to the side and take one of the largest pastries from the plate. Lavender does the same, watching me with curious eyes as I position another one on top of it and secure it with a fork.

"Looks great," I say after a few minutes of silence. Not that I should really get greedy with conversation, truly I am happy just to have the company. I'm not really one to be content with silence for this long and it doesn't seem like anyone else is keen on making up the background noise for me.

"Thanks," she smiles. "This is kind of awkward to ask at this point, but what was your name again?"

"Shay," I blush, realizing that I never took the chance to introduce myself.

"Oh that's right," she nods. "Mine's Lavender if you didn't already know."

"I remember from the Reaping," I say quietly and regret the mention of the event almost immediately when I see her eyes drop back down to the table. "Sorry."

"For what?" She asks softly.

"Nothing," I reply, ducking my head and continuing to concentrate on my tower.

She sighs. "I'm sorry, I think the subject is just a little bit touchy still. I know it shouldn't be."

"The Hunger Games?" I ask even though I am already pretty sure that I know the answer.

"Yes," she sighs again. "I just never thought I would here. It still doesn't seem real, even though everywhere we look there are reminders that it is."

I nod my head. "I understand."

"I think it would be better if we were all crying or screaming or anything else right now. Just sitting here and pretending that all of this is normal is killing me," she admits. "I think it would feel so much better to cry."

I nod even though I don't really understand. I can't imagine feeling the desire to cry or show those deep personal emotions in front of people I don't know. It's always been the opposite for me.

"Wow, sorry I got all deep and personal there," she laughs nervously. "Emotions are riding high right now I guess."

"Makes sense," I say, fighting the urge to add that it's probably normal to feel all sorts of weird emotions when you've just been chosen to fight for your life. It probably wouldn't help to remind her of that.

* * *

><p><strong>Avrie L'reaux, 17, District Eight<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>"Surely you don't expect to take on the careers? I mean c'mon dear, there's ten of them and one of you?"<p>

I respond with nothing more than a smirk. Of course in a fight I wouldn't be able to take on ten of the idiots, but I would never let myself get in that situation in the first place.

We had briefly watched recaps of the reapings earlier on, but no one stuck out to me more than expected. Typical idiot careers, and outer tributes either trying to act tough, or completely losing it in the case of the District Ten girl. Though the little girls from Nine and Eleven both put up respectable fights, I'll have to keep my eyes on the pair.

"Eira, Armada, I hope neither of you are as stupidly reckless as we have learned Mrs. Avrie to be," I snort at the escorts comment. She does realize I'm her only hope, right?

Armada is thirteen, and Eira is nothing special, barely saying a word since we've boarded this boring train, and she looks like I could snap her in half with my bare hands.

"This train is so boring," I sigh when it's clear neither Eira nor Armada were going to respond.

"I'm sorry it's not up to your standards dear, next time I'll arrange a live band or something of the likes!"

"Your sass is both unwanted, and unneeded. I fear you're pushing Eira and Armada further into their shell, and aren't you supposed to be doing the opposite?"

"I can handle my job thank you," the woman huffs, turning to face both Eira and Armada who look visibly uncomfortable at the escorts presence. I don't let her say a word.

"Can you really though? Armada and Eira both already hate you, and I can't say I'm much a fan of you either."

"That's not true is it kids?"

"You're the reason I'm here," Eira responds, rather bluntly. The escort looks shocked to say the least, quickly glancing between the three of us, each glaring back at her.

"I see," she finally says, wiping her face on a napkin before standing up and leaving the room.

"Finally," Eira sighs, a slight smile on her face as she nods at me.

"That women is a horrid person," I respond, turning to Armada who sits blank-faced.

"Yeah," he simply agrees.

"How come I've never seen either of you around?"

"You never come to class." I look over at Eira, who has a smirk on her face, and a raised eyebrow.

"I do so, when it's important. Did we go to the same school?"

"Once a month eh," she jokes. "Yes we did, we've had a few classes over time, but I didn't even know your name until the reaping."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"Like I said, you'd actually have to go to class to remember me."

It's astounding how the presence of one women has completely altered Eira's personality, that stupid escort was ruining the whole ride watching over us 24/7.

"How about you Armada?"

"I've never seen either of you in my life, so we must have lived in different parts of the District."

"I lived in the poor part."

"Really? Me too," Armada says, and him and Eira break out into a conversation about how close they could have lived together.

I stay silent, having nothing to add to the conversation. I lived in the orphanage for many years, and then when Alina adopted me I moved in with her, neither home being anywhere near the poor part of town, though the orphanage sure felt like it.

"How weird is it that we could have been neighbours and never even known it?" I hear Eira say, though Armada just nods in response, looking more than done with the conversation.

"You guys think you can win?" I can't help but ask, curious to see if the two poor kids have any fight in them.

Armada looks suddenly pale, and Eira adverts her gaze to the floor. Just as I thought, neither of them has any fight, and just when I thought they might be good ally potential.

"I'm going to win, I have people to get back to, Leilani needs me," Armada suddenly whispers, his eyes transforming to pure fire.

"Leilani?"

"My sister, she's all I have."

I can relate to that. When Alina took me from the orphanage, she also took Mattis, a blonde haired baby boy who has snuck his way into my heart.

Alina will take care of him, I know that, but she's aging, and fast. She's almost reached the average life-expectancy of our District, and though she's a fighter, she won't be able to hold on until Mattis is old enough to raise himself.

I can't let him go back into that orphanage. I won't.

"How do you guys feels about District Eight sticking together and showing everyone just how badass we can really be?"

Eira and Armada both look shocked, just as I am. What am I doing? Armada has fight, but he's just a little boy, how helpful can he really be? And Eira? She's shown that she's not ready for these Games. They'll both probably just bring me down, but what if it was Mattis? I'd want someone to help him, someone to at least give him a shot.

"What's in it for you?" Eira questions, her tone revealing that her guard is suddenly up.

"Look, if there's one thing the escort has said right, it's that there's no way I can take the careers on alone, but with the three of us working together, maybe we can figure something out."

"You want to take on the careers?"

"Not directly, but they'll have to go down at some point."

"I'm in," Armada suddenly says, and I nod, turning to face Eira.

"If you get me killed I will use my dying breath to end your life," Eira smirks, and I grin in return.

It may not be the best, buts it's a start. Once I have my pack, I can use them to take out those idiots, and take what I'm here for; the crown.

No ones stopping me from getting what I want, and that's to get back to Mattis, and win this damn thing.

* * *

><p><strong>Savvy McCreevy, 15, District Three<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>"Everything okay, Savvy?"<p>

The sudden conversation startles me, and I whip my head to the right to see the older girl from my District, Maelle, walking over to come and talk to me.

"Could be worse," I reply. "At least these conditions we are thrust into right now aren't terrible." I motioned to a wooden chair that was next to the soft, cushioned one that I was seated in currently. Maelle took the hint and elegantly slid into the chair, re-positioning herself several times before finding a comfortable sitting position. "How are you fairing?"

"Already missing my family and friends and all that, but otherwise I'm doing better than I thought I would be." Maelle's hand glides over to a table that is next to her chair, and quickly grabs a pale pastry with some sort of cream stuffed inside of it that is slowly coming out. She plops it into her mouth and hums in delight.

"At least the food here is fantastic." She smiles at me and I return the smile. Nothing wrong with a bit of politeness is there?

As Maelle turns her head to look for another pastry to dive into, I look around the current train car that we are in. It's rather extravagant, with multiple colors splashed along the walls and floor. Two glass chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling and are barely moving, even though the train is going at what seems to be faster than the speed of light.

The walls are adorned with colorful paintings and wall lights that are currently off. There are mirrors hanging as well, presumably where the Escort most frequently visits. I cast a glance over to the other corner of the train car where my other two district partners are currently talking and sharing a laugh. It's such a shame that for me to return home, they will have to die, as well as Maelle.

The two boys seem lovely, but from the clothes they are wearing and from how they are acting, they're definitely not from the Southern part of the District like I am. I'm fairly certain Maelle is also not as poor as I am, which does surprise me seeing as usually the wealthier families rarely loose even one child to the Games, let alone three.

I doubt that any of the people in this train car will want to ally with someone like me. The wealthier kids, like in the District itself, usually stick together because they have similar morals and values and can relate to each other better than with someone of a lower social status. I'm already preparing myself to have to search for an ally in Training rather than have someone approach me for an alliance on the train.

"So, Savvy…" Maelle has apparently finished her pastry and turns to face me, effectively popping the thought bubble that was forming around my head. "How would you like to ally with me?" Everything seemed to stand still for just a moment. Maelle had asked _me_to be in an alliance with _her_? Oz, Tilly, and the rest of them would certainly get a kick out of having a rich girl ask me to align with her.

"I…uh…"

"It's okay if you don't want to. I know we seem like an unlikely pair seeing as we are very different, but I thought that heading into training with someone already on your side might make this whole ordeal a little easier on us."

Maelle started to get up from her wooden chair and appeared to be leaving, but thankfully I managed to find my words before she could walk away from me, effectively ending my chance at an alliance that was practically handed to me on a silver platter.

"I would love to be in an alliance with you Maelle." I got up from my chair and offered my hand to her, which she immediately took and gave me a firm handshake. "I'm glad we can go into this together."

Maelle nodded her head in agreement before looking over her shoulder at Zeno and Toby, who had seemingly stopped talking and were now seated a few feet away from each other. She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the other two.

"What about them? Should we form a District Three alliance?" I thought about it for a moment, considering my options before shaking my head side to side.

"I would love nothing more than to help the kid, but in an environment like the Hunger Games, especially when there are more careers than usual, he'll only weigh us down. And Zeno…" I looked over at the other boy who stared back at me with an uneasy smile. "I have a bad feeling about him."

Maelle turned to face me once again before nodding in agreement.

"Sounds good to me. Maybe we should watch the Reapings Recap so we can look out for any other potential allies. No offence, but I definitely think three or more people could benefit us more than just the two of us." Maelle swiftly made her way over to the purple couch that was placed in front of a rather large black screen. When our Escort noticed us moving towards the screen, she pranced over and grabbed a device, clicking a button on it bringing the black screen to life with flashing colors now taking over the screen.

"The Recaps already aired darlings. But, lucky for you, I recorded them just in case you may have wanted to view them later to spot out potential allies." Our Escort clapped her hands excitedly, obviously enthralled at the idea of us making new allies. I looked over at Maelle one last time before the Recaps began and noticed her paying careful attention to the screen, obviously serious about finding useful allies. I'm glad she offered to be my ally, it'll make everything easier in the long run.

After all, this experience won't be easy. Anything to lighten the load of what is to come is a gift like no other.

* * *

><p><strong>Aston Moroque, 15, District Six<strong>

**Acereader55 (Written by District11-Olive)**

* * *

><p>"Tatum why don't you come on over here and talk with us?" Pricilla asks for the likely hundredth time since we stepped onto the train. In the far corner of the train cart, Tatum sneaks a glance up at us before returning her gaze to the window. I would have been surprised if Pricilla's request had resulted in any other response.<p>

"She'll come around eventually I'm sure," she smiles and I cringe. Talking to Pricilla is definitely not one of the top things on my list right now, but I don't really feel like separating myself from her and my mentors would do me any good. I would have rather talked to Tatum, maybe she would have been able to understand more of what I mean than Pricilla, but I definitely don't feel like trying that again.

As soon as we got on the train I sat down next to her in her little window seat, probably a little bit too expectantly I gather. She put a stop to my attempts to talk to her pretty quickly. I guess not everyone is handling this whole situation as well as I seem to be.

"She's probably just a little overwhelmed," I reply with a smile. I'm not sure if it is wrong of me to say that I felt a lot better after I saw her crying. It's not that I find joy in her sadness, but I think it just helps me out to know that even though I am a year younger than Tatum I am able to handle myself just a little bit better. That epiphany gave me a little bit more strength to hold back the tears, at least until I can be alone for a while.

"Poor girl," Pricilla shakes her head. "At least she was able to almost hold it together at the ceremony. What a pity it would have been to see all of her chances gone so quickly. A bad reaction makes it so difficult to get back in the viewers' good graces."

I say nothing and just nod along. I can understand what Pricilla means when she says how important it is for us to make good impressions and stand out to the audience, but I also find it hard to get over the fact that we have so much expected of us. We are teenagers, and it's not something normal that we would have to deal with to be reaped into the Hunger Games.

"If she doesn't start acting her age, however, she's going to find her time with us a lot more difficult," Pricilla continues. "She doesn't have too many things going for her, she will have to work at it a little more."

"I can hear you." I turn and see Tatum looking over at Pricilla and I. Her grey eyes are narrowed into thin slits and her cheeks still wet with fresh tears.

"I'm glad you did, darling," Pricilla replies. "You should know what is expected of you."

"Expected of me?" She huffs. "I couldn't care less what you expect of me, Pricilla. You have no idea what this is like, how dare you even try to tell me how I should be reacting?"

"You are a young woman," Pricilla snaps, her smile fading as quickly as Tatum's timid demeanour. "Aston here already knows exactly how he is to behave if he wants to be a Victor. You, on the other hand, still seem not to know. And you're running out of time, darling."

"I don't need your help to win," she spits back, her shy and tearful face turning to ice before my eyes.

"That's what you think," Pricilla laughs. "But when we get to the Capitol, darling, that is a world I know better than either of you. Tomorrow you will be on your knees begging for my advice, but I'm not sure I'll find the heart to waste it on you."

Pricilla gets up from the table and steps into the washroom, her face beaming red despite her calm tone. Tatum turns her glare at me, her eyes accusing and sharp. I look down and after a minute of so I can feel her eyes shift from me. When I look back up she is once again staring out the window.

I consider for a brief second going over and talking to her but dismiss the thought immediately. She rejected my efforts earlier without having anything against me that I know of, and after that dispute with Pricilla I just know that my presence wouldn't be welcome. I had considered for the first few hours on that train that maybe after Tatum calmed down a little bit that her and I could be allies. I think just sitting beside Pricilla has turned the odds of that happening to nearly zero percent.

"We're here," one of the mentors says softly.

Pricilla steps out of the washroom with her smile replaced firmly where it belongs. "Brilliant! Follow me children, I will show you to your new home, I just know you are going to love it."

When the train door opens I can see that it is night time, the only light coming from the dim lanterns that sit on either side of an industrial looking door. I step off onto the hard concrete and the chill of the air cuts through me almost instantly. A second later I remember that I left my sweatshirt in the Justice Building after the Reaping.

"This is just the train station," Pricilla coos. "Upstairs is far nicer than anything you will have ever seen before. Just you wait!"

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey all, it's Olive again. This chapter begins our journey into the Capitol with the train rides. The Capitol will feature eight chapters, with each tribute getting two POVs. **

**This chapter was a little bit (a lot) late, but we hope that with school ending for the break for all of us that we will be able to get the next few up on time at least. Fingers crossed!**

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><p><strong>We hope that all of you that are reading will take the time to let us know how we are doing with character showcasing and general writing style, as well as answer the questions below. <strong>

_**Who are your favourites from this chapter?**_

_**Do you have any early predictions for alliances?**_

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><p><strong>That is basically it for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed and we will see you next week for the Tribute Parade! <strong>


	6. Change

**No Curtain Call by Maroon 5**

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><p><em>I'm fighting through this pain<br>And things I cannot change  
>Running right into the flame<br>Rather than running away_

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><p><strong>Lavender Vargas, 14, District Seven<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

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><p>"If you expect me to wear that, you're out of your mind."<p>

My stylist looks on the brink of tears as I once again refuse to try on my stupid parade outfit.

Truthfully, I had barely looked at it, but I don't exactly fancy the idea of being paraded around in anything for the Capitol to see.

"Would you just try it on? Maybe you'll like it?" she pleads again, and I can't help but smirk.

"I can tell you one thing for sure, and that's that I will not be wearing that, ever."

This whole idea is idiotic, what is the point in parading us around like freaks? How could someone seriously enjoy watching 30 kids shaking in their boots about their upcoming death? It's sick, the whole thing, The Hunger Games is fucked up, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make it harder on these buffoons.

"What would you like to wear then?"

"What I'm wearing now," I smile, motioning down at my simple green shirt and grey sweatpants.

"The President would have my head."

"I really don't care, but the only way I'm wearing that is if you tie me down and force me."

The minute I say it I regret it, Myla's face instantly transforms from hopelessness to pure evil.

It's only a few minutes later that I'm strapped down onto some sort of table, my clothes being ripped from my body and tossed to the side like trash.

At first I try and fight it, clawing at anyone who nears my tied down hands, but then the thought of my mother calms me down.

If only the psycho could see me now, her precious daughter strapped down on a table naked, in the Capitol of all places, several strangers eyes lingering on places they should have never seen.

She'd have a fit, let alone the germs I could be collecting right now. I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't given herself a heart attack by now, having no control over me anymore.

"There, doesn't that feel better?"

I look down and am shocked to see my naked body has been replaced with my outfit; a simple white sun-dress, paired with the real life flower head band that had been fastened in my newly curled haired.

I'd never admit it, but I look pretty cute in this new getup.

"It's hideous," I spit, and Myla looks slightly sad, but the look quickly vanishes.

"If I let you up, are you going to behave?" I nod, knowing that they could have a new outfit, that could very well be worse, here in a matter of minutes.

A man unlocks both the straps that were holding my hands, before disappearing through the door with the rest of his crew, leaving the room empty other than myself and Myla.

"We have a bit until you're expected down, is there anything you'd like to talk about?"  
>I snort, now suddenly she's my friend?<p>

"How about your District partners? Are they nice?"

"Oh, you mean the whore, the psycho, and the nerd? Yeah they're a load of fun!"

Myla just shakes her head, probably fed up with dealing with me, but I don't really care. She's nothing to me, nothing more than a stupid pawn, a pawn that will cheer for my death when the time comes, I'm sure.

Getting out of this is not something I plan on doing. Realistically how could I? A third of the tributes going into that arena are trained killers, and I'm just a fourteen year old girl that has barely seen the light of day.

For years my mother thought she was protecting me by keeping me locked away, but I bet she regrets that now. Had I been allowed out of the house more often, I probably would have picked up a few skills that could be useful in this situation, like people skills, which is something I know I'm lacking in.

But no, she was too scared; too scared I'd get hurt, too scared I'd get sick, too scared I'd leave and never come back. So she kept me inside, away from the world, and away from the people.

I'll never get over her face when I told her I'd been sneaking out to meet some friends at night for years in our goodbye. She had nearly killed me right then and there, but she broke down again before she could say a word.

A part of me feels bad, I know she was only doing what she thought was best for me, but a part of me will always hate her, for ruining my life. She took away more than my freedom, she took away my childhood, any memories I could have made, she took away my right to live happily, and now the Capitol's taking away my right to live at all.

I don't know who I hate more, my mother, or the Capitol. Both ruined my life, and both will one day pay the price. My mother sooner than later. I'm sure she'll feel the regret as she watches the life drain from my eyes, knowing that the last words I'd ever said to her was I hate you, and I might even experience a little regret, but what's done is done, and right now I couldn't care less about what I said.

The Capitol, well they'll pay the price someday, the Games can't go on forever, one day the Capitol will fall, and justice will be served. I'm just pissed I won't be around to see it happen.

"It's time Lavender, are you ready?"

"Ready? How could I ever be ready for this stupid thing?"

"I don't know Lavender, let's just go," she grumbles, the defeat clear in her eyes.

I smirk as I follow her out of the room, I may not win the Games, or take down the Capitol, but I'll sure as hell be the biggest pain in the ass to everyone in this evil place.

I won't win the Games, but the Capitol won't defeat me.

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><p><strong>Phoebe Ryder, 16, District Seven <strong>

**Acereader55**

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><p>"Oh I just love my outfit Felicia!" I squeal in delight as my stylist claps her pasty hands together. I twirl around in front of the mirror and giggle politely, which in turn makes Felicia squeal with pleasure at the sight of having made me, her very first tribute, happy with what they're wearing.<p>

It's a simple white, short sundress with holes and carvings cut out throughout the dress in shapes of leaves and flowers. It's much better than the outfits last year's tributes were forced to wear. I would die if I were forced to look like a tree in front of all of Panem.

"Felicia, is there any way this neckline can be altered to be a little shorter?" I ask. "I think that my best assets should be a little more… in view." I smirk at Felicia in a seductive way, one that would make any boy fall to his knees and crawl after me in a fit of lust and desire for something that they most certainly can have. After all, there's nothing more that boys love then a good helping of a mature woman.

Felicia walks over to a silver tray that is placed on top of a marble counter, and she grabs an instrument that looks like a scalpel, something usually used for surgery. She sashays back over to where I am as her high heels click across the tiled floor. She spins me around and begins to use the instrument she grabbed to make a deep cut into the fabric, careful not to cut any of the intricate designs that are laced into my sundress. Her hand carefully guides the instrument around my breasts and cuts the white laced fabric away, and I watch as it floats to the ground as she stands back and admires her work.

"Take a look in the mirror sweetie," she requests and I happily oblige, turning around and walking to the mirror in the corner of the room. Now that she's cut off the majority of the laced fabric that lied around my breasts, I feel much more liberated and I feel that I can make a much bigger impression now.

"It's even better than before Felicia," I smile and give her a quick hug, thanking her for making me look more desirable than ever before. "I think that with your outfit on me, we could have a winning combination." Felicia gives a wide smile showing off her whitened teeth and claps her hands together with delight.

The steel door suddenly swings open and in walks another man that I have never seen before. As I look past the other man, I see Shay standing past the doorway. He looks extremely uncomfortable in his stark white outfit, and I can see him fidgeting with his belt that holds his pants up.

"It's time to bring them to the underground chamber, Felicia." The man gestures towards the door and Felicia grabs my arm, guiding me through the doorway even though I'm perfectly capable of walking three feet in front of me myself. "We have to be in there in a few minutes, and it would be an absolute travesty if we were the last ones to be downstairs." The man is obviously worried about appearances, much like myself. Seems like Shay got a good stylist as well.

As our Stylists chatter idly in front of us about the latest Capitol fashion, I hang back and walk side by side with Shay, who is putting on a brave face and not saying one word.

"Long day, huh?" I ask him. Shay looks at me with a confused look on his face, before nodding his head slightly and quickening his pace. Obviously not one for talking then. No matter, a little shimmy here and a shake of the hips there will get his tongue to dance for me. "Hopefully these Chariot Rides will be as amazing as everyone hypes them up to be." Once again, Shay nods slightly, not speaking a single word which irritates me to no end. You have a tongue for a reason, you should at least use it once in a while, especially when a girl like me comes a talking.

Our stylists stop at the glass elevator which immediately opens up for us, and the four of us load into the elevator, waiting for the doors to close and take us down to the underground chamber where out Chariots and the other tributes wait. The glass doors eventually close, and as I look up, a number is flashing on a tiny screen, informing us of what floor we have just passed.

When we reach the bottom floor, the screen reads 'UC' and the elevator dings as the two doors slide open and we walk out into the chamber, which isn't really a chamber at all. Our stylists usher us over to where a rather large Chariot is placed, and as we walk over to it I can see Regan and Lavender already situated together, their stylists making last minute adjustments to their outfits, which are similar to mine.

"Oh look, the nerd and the whore have arrived," Lavender scoffs and I just smile brightly.

"You're just jealous of my tits little girl," I reply, which shuts her up rather quickly. She's younger and smaller than me and definitely not as attractive as I am. I'm far superior to anything she'll ever grow into, and she should respect me. Shay backs away from me and begins to silently slide over towards the entrance to our Chariot, and Lavender quickly follows behind him.

"Idiotic children eh?" I say to Regan. He turns to look at me and sends me a look that tells me to shut up. If looks could kill, I'd definitely be dead by now. "What's the matter big boy? Can't trash talk some kids as well as a doll like me can?"

I'm flabbergasted when Regan slams his hand into my throat and pins me to the side of the Chariot, making it shake slightly. The stylists whip their heads around to view what's happening along with some of the tributes that were already down here, eager to get a glimpse of what was happening.

"You better shut your damn mouth girl or I'll rip your tongue out the second we get in that arena." His breath slams into my face and I squirm as much as I can to get free from his iron grasp. "No whore is going to dictate how or what I do." He releases me from his grip just as the stylists come to grab him away from me, and he pushes them away as he walks towards the entrance to the Chariot. As I sit on the ground gasping for air, I can't help but think about his threat.

If I can't convince my own male district partners to like me, how in the hell am I to convince anyone else?

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><p><strong>Glint Grayson, 18, District One<strong>

**District11-Olive**

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><p>"You look lovely," my stylist takes a step back from me with a teary-eyed smile. Her gaze moves up and down me and she motions for me to turn. I suppress a groan but decide that it's better to make the small woman happy than to risk her not working as hard on my next few outfits. My stylist is certainly not someone that I would like to have upset with me.<p>

I turn around slowly until my back is facing her, looking up to see the trio of tributes from District Two standing hardly two feet in front of me. I can't help but groan this time as the brown haired girl I recognize as Eden Ares eyes my outfit. It feels like forever and a day before she speaks.

"You look stupid."

I bite my lip, unsure how to respond, but thankfully Raleigh is only standing a few feet away, her stylist already having deemed her ready for the Capitol's eye. She moves to stand beside me and holds out one hand with a toothy grin on her face. "I'm Raleigh, nice to finally meet you all."

Eden looks Raleigh up and down just as she had me. "Pleasure. I'm Eden, this is Arnette and Braden."

"I can speak for myself," the redhead I recognize as Arnette says, slapping Eden on the arm softly. "I'm Arnette."

The boy standing a little bit behind them, Braden, says nothing but I nod at him to acknowledge him anyway. He nods back, the golden crown that sits on his head shifting just a little bit closer to his forehead. This year, unsurprisingly, District Two is dressed up like gladiators with gold-plated armour covering only the necessary parts of them and golden laurel crowns sitting atop their heads.

I can hear Zaria and Jasper coming up behind us. They smile and introduce themselves, Zaria's stylist still dutifully trailing behind her to fix the colourful array of feathers that has been pinned to the back of her collar. District One's outfits are a little bit different than the usual silver and fuchsia that we are traditionally dressed in. Raleigh and Zaria are dressed in nothing more than two bands of jade green fabric with a bouquet of feathers attached to their backs and a detailed mask painted across their eyes. Jasper and I are dressed similarly, minus the top half of the costume and with our feathers attached as an elaborate necklace of sorts. I heard a few of the members of my prep team saying how magnificent we looked dressed as peacocks, whatever those are.

As I listen to the idle chitchat that seems to mostly encompass the girls of the group, I begin to wonder if the initial Career meeting is this awkward every year or if it's just magnified this year because of the sheer size of our group. Somewhere in this time the three tributes from District Four, Atlas, Ebba, and Dierdre, arrive, their bodies even more exposed in swimsuits that looked like slimy lettuce and barely covered the girls' upper regions.

"What do you think?" I say absentmindedly to Braden who stands silently listening to the girls' chatter. He turns to me immediately, an almost surprised look on his face.

"About?"

I think for a second before answering. Truthfully I was just looking to start a conversation with anyone that would. Standing here and listening is sort of driving me insane if I am being honest. I thought that as soon as we all got together the planning would begin, maybe I'd even find out what I was supposed to do in a few minutes when our chariot rode out into the City Circle. "This thing so far, is it anything like you thought it would be?"

"There's a lot more waiting around than any of the trainers warned me about," he admits, cracking a smile for the first time since I've seen him in person. "I assumed that I would have to get used to being rushed around everywhere, but all we've done so far is sit around."

"I know what you mean," I say and I mean it. "I thought this would all be a lot more exciting. It looks that way on television."

Braden nods and chuckles a bit to himself. "I guess it is true what they say, everything seems more interesting on television. Hopefully by tomorrow the pace will pick up a little bit more, you know when training begins."

"Me too, I don't know if I can take too many more days like today," I laugh. It's nearly nine o'clock in the evening and all that I have managed to accomplish today is sleep in until noon and lay on a bed for another four hours as my prep team primped and picked at every inch of my body. And I mean _every _inch.

Strangely enough, especially considering how little activity I was able to do minus the fifteen minute workout I started before being called to lunch, I am tired enough that I would be able to fall asleep right now given the option. I don't expect that after this anybody will have any objections to my making it an early night. After all I can't expect that I will be sleeping in tomorrow.

Braden looks like he is about to respond when Eden appears at his side, grabbing his arm and motioning over to their chariot. "It's time to go, they're calling the five minute warning now."

"Alright," he says and allows her to drag him over to the chariot behind ours, grabbing Arnette on the way over. District Four sees them leaving and nod amongst themselves, presumably agreeing that it is time for them to leave as well. I wave as each of them pass me to get to their chariots. They're all too concentrated on the journey to return the gesture I guess.

* * *

><p><strong>Toby Alvarez, 13, District Three<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

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><p>My heart races as I stand among my District partners, all relatively cramped into this less then roomy chariot.<p>

Savvy is too my right, Maelle and Zeno standing behind us. All of us are dressed fairly similar in our sparkling grey suits and dresses. Rather boring if you ask me, but my attire is the last thing I'm worried about right now.

Savvy is visibly shaking beside me, and either Zeno or Maelle seem to be having a breathing problem, panting behind me in anticipation of what is to come.

Their nerves makes me uneasy, at first I thought it wouldn't be too bad. I'd stand on this stupid thing for a little while, pretending to be anywhere else, and then it'd be over.

But none of my District partners seem to be the nervous type, all three of them being relatively confident, but it's sure getting to them now.

It makes me think that maybe I was wrong, maybe this will be really, really bad.

On the train, I didn't develop any connections to any of them, which is unsurprising. Friends have never been my thing, a skill I wish I had now more than ever.

I tried, but they're all so confident, especially Zeno. They overwhelmed me, and all they did was try and talk to me.

I ruined any chance of an alliance, so there's no point in talking to them at all now. They'll all find strong allies, perhaps each other, but I'll be left out, as always.

The anticipation is becoming too much, so I scan the room, looking for anything to keep my mind of this parade.

The careers are in one corner, standing around chatting amongst themselves as if this was some sort of party, and not a fight to the death.

A few other Districts are starting to intertwine, but the majority of the other tributes either  
>stand by themselves, or with their District.<p>

District Eight looks particular close, sitting in their chariot talking with the occasional laugh, though it seems the red-head girl is doing most of that.

Moving down the line, I almost giggle at the District Nine chariot; it being shrunk to nearly half the size of a normal one. It makes sense though, District Nine having only one tribute, who currently is standing alone nearby the chariot, eyes darting around the room like she is lost, a look of desperation on her face.

I look away, the sight only making me feel worse. Poor girl is all alone in this, though I practically am too.

By now the silence has become too much for my District partners, the chatting beginning to resume like it had the whole train ride, though none of them make an attempt to include me.  
>I continue down the line, watching as the boy from Ten seems to be yelling at his District partner, who starts to cry as the boy continues his rage over who knows what.<p>

Surprisingly, a figure comes up behind the Ten girl, pulling her quickly away, yelling profanities at the boy who retaliates with more words even I've never heard of, though I do catch the word crybaby.

The two girls don't get very far away before they stop, and I finally recognize the other one to be the previously desperate looking girl from Nine.

Oh great, look at even her making friends.

I turn again and notice the District Eleven chariot containing it's one and only tribute, the little twelve year old girl.

Surprisingly she looks rather calm, perched on the side of the chariot, eyes scanning the room much like mine.

For a moment we catch each other's eye, but I quickly look away, though I regret it as soon I do.

I'm hopeless, I can't even keep the eye of a freaking twelve year old!

"You ok Toby?" I turn to see a concerned looking Maelle, Zeno and Savvy also starring at me.

"Fine," I whisper back, attempting a fake smile that I fear doesn't go over well.

Maelle doesn't say anything else, though she does raise her eyebrow at me and I just nod my head, turning back around and letting them return to their conversation.

Out of no where the chariot jolts, and the chatter instantly stops, though someone let's out a quick gasp. It could have been me.

I look to see the giant doors ahead opening, and I nearly stumble back as the noise hits me like a brick wall.

It's deafening, to say the least, all hope for chatter whipped away.

The chariots continue their trek towards the doors, and I look around to see that everyone had already boarded their chariots. When did that happen? It was only a second ago that most of them were standing around chatting.

I don't have time to question it as our chariot finally pulls trough the doors, and I get my first glimpse.

There are people literally everywhere. Everywhere I look, there are thousands of them, millions even, all screaming, all cheering, for what though?

Most of us we'll be dead in a matter of days, is that really that exciting?

I try to shake my head to clear my mind, but end up tripping, falling back into a pair of shaking hands.

Maelle sets me back on my feet, and when I turn to see her she offers a small smile, but I'm too afraid to acknowledge it.

Afraid. I'm afraid.

Afraid of what though? The Capitol? Duh, I always have been. The people? It'll be over soon, and I can retire to my room alone for the night.

Dying? I've known I was going to die since the moment I was reaped, I'd like to think I've come to terms with that.

So what is it? What has changed?

You're alone, you always will be.

You're going to die alone.

The mere thought of it sends a shiver down my spine, all thoughts of the thousands of screaming people around me forgotten as I escape to my own mind.

I can do a lot of things, but making friends has never been my strong point. I like people, I really do, but it's getting them to like me that I struggle with.

They always find something wrong with me; I'm too quiet, too boring, too mature.  
>But I can be fun, I can be a good friend, if someone would just give me the chance. If someone would just look past my quiet exterior, and see the real Toby. The Toby that's caring, and optimistic, and loyal.<p>

Perhaps these Games can be the push I need, the push that will force me to make a friend, or else I will die alone.

Perhaps some good will come out of these Games.

My District partners might not think so, but I can useful, I can survive long enough to help.

I'll prove them wrong.

I'll find someone who likes me, and we'll do it.

We'll play the Game, and when I lose, well at least I won't be alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Corlis Kembrey, 17, District Ten<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>As the Chariots begin to roll through the gigantic double wooden doors, I feel even more sick than I ever have felt before. I feel like I'm going to throw up all over, and my insides feel like they're about to explode along with my eardrums. The sheer noise that I'm hearing when I'm not even out of the doors makes me even more nervous.<p>

I've never been one for large crowds or for being in the spotlight for too long, that was always other people's forte while I was simply in the background. A frame for the pretty picture, if you will. I've tried my best to be the picture, but it just doesn't work for me. I've done everything I could possibly think of: doing their work, helping out around the house, complimenting them, everything I could think of I would do to make them like me and make me the center of attention, but it just never worked out.

As time went on, I learned to accept this fate that I was deemed. I was always meant to be the frame, and never was meant to be the picture. Always the bridesmaid, but never the actual bride. It's saddening in a way, but I've learned to cope with it and I've learned to accept with why I was put in this world.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts when Hunter taps my bare shoulder and motions to his wide grin that he has painted on his face. Hunter is a sweet gentleman, something that I've always admired in a man. Too bad his politeness will probably end up getting him hurt or even killed in the Games.

I plaster a smile onto my face and hold his hand that he has outstretched to me, taking comfort into being able to grip onto something in this scary and unfortunate time. Soon, our Chariot rolls into the Center Circle and we are out and visible for the whole world to see.

The noise is like nothing I've ever heard before. It is absolutely deafening, and I can tell why. There must be thousands of the Capitol citizens all packed into this gigantic City Circle, all huddled together in order to get just a glimpse of the new batch of tributes this year. It's so overwhelming to see all of these people looking at me, and all of these people are judging every little part of me, which is very scary to me. I'm not used to being the pretty picture in the frame.

I begin to swoon to the side towards Hunter, and thank Panem for that because if I had swooned to the other side, I'd have fallen off of the Chariot. Hunter takes my head in the crook of his neck and adjusts his shoulder accordingly so that I can rest my head there. Admittedly, it made for a nice little scene with him and it makes me happy that maybe we garnered more sponsors from that little stunt. I need something good to come out of all this attention and nerves, and sponsors sponsoring me is definitely something good.

As the Chariot continues to roll through the City Circle, I can begin to see the balcony that the President is on. Oh, how much I hate that piece of shit. He's part of the reason that I'm here, stuck in this predicament with no other way out of it other than to run away and kill people in an arena.

We finally roll up around a large and regal fountain, water spouting out of what looks to be like an angel's mouth. There are white roses littered in the pond that the fountain spits water into, and there are so many different colored roses littered on the floor around all of the Chariots. When the Chariots come to a halt, I take a look around and notice the Careers in all their glory and fame.

The District One Chariot looks as regal and beautiful as ever. Painted a beautiful gold and silver color, the Chariot is just as breathtaking as the tributes that stand inside of it. The girls, one blonde and the other a black haired girl, are dressed in what seems like small bikinis with a flower headband, feathers sticking out of their backs and an intricate pattern that is painted on their faces. The boys are dressed rather similarly, though neither of them have a shirt on, their bare chests full of muscles fully exposed to all of Panem.

District Two is equally as intimidating as District One is. The boy has no shirt on and no paints either, only a small piece of armor covering the necessary parts. He is painted in gold paint and is shining under the lights of the City Circle. The girls are dressed in a similar fashion, though their tops are covered by armor as well. All three of them are painted in gold paint and have golden laurel crowns on their heads.

I turn my head to inspect District Four, which probably will only make myself feel even more insecure than I already do after looking at the other Careers, when I'm interrupted by the President's booming voice.

"Tributes," he begins. "We salute you and your sacrifice. On this fourth Quarter Quell, 100 years since the rebellion, we declare this year's Hunger Games officially open!" The crowd roars and cheers in response, the noise making my ears feel like they're being destroyed from the inside out.

"Good luck tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

As he finishes his speech, the crowd chants and claps some more, the noise still making my ears throb uncomfortably. As we roll back into the underground chambers, I finally go back into my normal self and the shell that has always encompassed me. Always the ever invisible picture frame, never the illuminated picture; just the way I prefer it to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Armada Pruitt, 13, District Eight<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>My heart is pounding as I accept the hand that is offered to me. My eyes are still adjusting to the much more dim lighting inside in comparison to those in front of the audience. I step blindly to the side that the hand leads me to and end up missing the steps completely. I hit the ground hard and my knees shake with the impact. Thankfully I am able to keep upright.<p>

"You three were just wonderful!" A voice coos. I feel someone land beside me and then seconds later I just narrowly avoid being used as a cushion as Eira blindly feels her way off of the chariot and onto the ground. Everyone that is able to heard the sound of her dress ripping as her knee catches it flinches, myself included.

"It-it's probably fine," she mutters, pinching the two pieces of fabric together with her fingers and ducking her head to try and hide the deep red blush that breaks out across her cheeks.

Our escort sighs and ushers Eira over to the elevator in front of the rest of us. "At least this waited until the parade was over, honey."

I glance up at Avrie, who shakes her head as they rush ahead of her. When she notices me she cracks a half-smile and places a hand on my back to push me after them. I roll my eyes but I'm grateful for the playfulness that Avrie beams. It makes this whole thing just a little less weird as long as we can act like everything is normal.

Ever since it was decided that the three of us would be in an alliance in the arena, I have felt a lot better about this whole thing. Well, I'm still scared out of my mind, but at least I know I won't be walking around by myself in there. My chances haven't really improved even in being with two older tributes now, but I can't really complain. I'm surprised that I was their first choice for an ally in the first place after all.

Don't get me wrong, Avrie and Eira are nice people. Some of the nicest people I have ever met, even, but I don't see a fighter in either one of them. Watching the Career tributes _volunteer _to go into the arena I guess has jaded my opinion a bit but can you blame me? From what I have heard, those tributes spend years training with all the sharp things we'll be armed with in the arena. The three of us? Well let's just say I'd be surprised if any one of us can wield a kitchen knife effectively.

Avrie pulls me into an elevator after her and the door closes just as another pair of tributes hurries in. I must have been too deep in my thoughts to notice that Eira and the rest of our team had taken another elevator. I press myself into the wall that Avrie and I take and notice the boy across the cart from me doing the same thing. Judging by the theme of his costume I guess that him and the girl beside him are from District Seven.

I catch the boy's eye for only a second and notice him crack a shy smile. It takes everything in me to return it as the sides of the elevator cart seem to close the four of us in closer and closer together. My hands are shaking and I hide them behind me so as not to let either of the District Seven tributes see. My eyes flash up to the digital screen that tells us what floor we are on.

I let out a loud breath as the doors slide open to allow the two tributes onto their floor. Once they're gone, Avrie turns to me. "If you were trying to hide your nerves, you are going to have to give it a better shot next time. You're sweating more than a porcupine in a balloon factory."

"Huh?"

"It's a saying I used to hear," she shrugs. "It seemed to apply to you pretty well."

"Oh," I say sheepishly. A porcupine in a balloon factory? What does that even have to do with anything? I'm too scared to ask, thinking that it will probably make me look even worse in her eyes, which is the last thing I need. Just because we all agreed to be allies on the train doesn't mean they'll always mean it. If I can't figure out a way to make myself necessary, they will always have the option of killing me off on the second or third day.

_If I even make it that far. _

I do my best to shake the negativity out of my head as the doors slide open and let us out on our floor. As we open the door to our suite I see that Eira has already made it back and has changed out of her ripped dress. I look down at my own costume and resist the urge to throw up. I definitely need to change as soon as humanly possible.

"Are either of you hungry?" Delia asks from her seat at the dining table. "I've already placed an order but I'd be happy to place another for you two."

"I'd love something," Avrie says, making her way over to the table to sit across from Eira. "Whatever you ordered for Eira just order me some of that."

Delia turns to me. "And you, sweetheart?"

"Um, no thank you," I mumble. "I think I'm going to go and change."

"Hurry," Avrie instructs me. "We're going to talk about our strategy soon and you need to be here for that."

"Wouldn't miss it."

* * *

><p><strong>Aluma Rye, 16, District Five<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>We all looked like a bunch of idiots, especially those District One kids. My father had told me stories about peacocks when I was little, so it wasn't hard for me to recognize what their stylist was trying to do. It looked legit, hot even, and the Capitol definitely liked it. Though I bet District One could come out wearing District Twelve clothes and they'd still be the favourites.<p>

It's rather unfair that they are so automatically liked by the Capitol just because of where they were born, while people like me and Gideon struggle to even get noticed, not that I'd be worrying about that if my life didn't depend on it.

"How do you think it went, Gideon?"

I almost chuckle at the escorts words. She already knows not to ask me, or talk to me in any way, because she knows I simply won't respond.

It's nothing against her, I know she's just doing her job, I just find small talk to be trivial, so I don't partake in it whatsoever. Not do I talk that much to begin with, I'd much rather observe, after all like my father always told me, you never learn anything new while talking.

"It was fine," Gideon replies, continuing to stare at the television as it replays the events of earlier this evening.

"Just fine?"

"Yes."

Gideon is a weird one, one I haven't quite figured out yet. He's nice enough, but he's definitely moody. I caught him snapping at the escort on multiple occasions on our journey to the Capitol, over petty little things even I wouldn't care about.

There was one thing I had noticed though, and those were the little round scars that littered his arms, scars that matched those of a drug addiction. I'd kept an eye on him throughout the train ride, to see if I could gather any signs that he was still using, but other then a few extended bathroom breaks, I had come up with nothing.

Maybe I was wrong, I'd considered it before, but I also couldn't think of anything other than a needle that could form those marks on his arms.

"Come on Aluma, let's go in private to talk strategy."

I don't hesitate before getting up, following Gideon as he begins to move towards the hallway.

"Why not here? We are on the same team you know," the escort questions, but Gideon doesn't respond, and she knows very well I won't.

I follow Gideon into his room, where he throws himself on the bed, and then looks at me expectantly.

I however sit on the floor, there's no way I'm climbing into bed with someone I barely know. He looks hurt for a second, but he quickly gets over it, sitting up and studying me.

"What?" I finally say when his gaze begins to make me uncomfortable. He doesn't respond, other than a shake of his head.

It falls silent again after that, Gideon starring out the window out at the Capitol. I never thought I'd be here, in the Capitol, sitting in one of the nicest rooms I've ever been in with a complete stranger who I know nothing about.

The Hunger Games is something you fear from childhood, but it was never a true fear for me. When I thought about it, I always thought it'd happen to someone else, someone who I didn't know,who'd enter the Games and die, and I'd feel sad for a few days, but then I'd get over it and return to my normal life. Even with tesserae, my odds were slim, so what was I to fear? Luck has always been on my side, so going into the Games was something that would never happen to me. If only younger me could see me now.

Would I have lived differently though? Would I live my life with no regrets like I always wished I'd could? Would I have no fears, and do everything I've ever wanted? Perhaps I could have forgiven my mom, or made some friends? Or would have I become a slave to the Games? Would knowing that I'd be reaped turn me into one of those mindless robots from the career District's that spend their whole childhood training, learning to fight, and losing all this emotions? Would that have really been better than what I had for a life?

It doesn't matter I guess, it's in the past, and nothing can change it. I'm stuck with the choices I've made, and that's left me with very little skills to survive this thing, but boy am I going to try.

I might be small, and weak, and hate social environments, but I'm not done yet. I've got a life to live, and things to do, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some stupid Game ruin it.

"Are you nervous for training?" Gideon suddenly asks, startling me slightly.

I shake me head, for even if I was I wouldn't tell him. Training is the thing I'm most looking forward to. It's my chance to see how far I really am out of my element, and how low my chances truly are, but it's also my chance to improve those chances, because I know that interview won't help me at all.

"I am," he quietly admits, though I don't know how to respond, so I don't.

A few moments more of silence pass before Gideon pulls himself under the blankets, and I take the hint that he's tired and ready for bed.

"Goodnight Aluma," Gideon says as I stand up to leave, flicking off his lamp. I nod my head in response, but I'm sure it's too dark for him to see.

I slip out of his room, and into my own, shredding off the clothes I had put on after the parade, and climbing into bed.

I think about the parade, and the Capitol's less than enthusiastic response to us, and it almost saddens me. They don't know me, or how capable I am, for all they know I could be equally as skilled as their precious careers.

I let out a small chuckle at the thought. Wouldn't that be a plot twist; the petite quiet girl from District Five shocking the world as she tears apart the entire career alliance with such grace.

The thought leaves a smile on my face as I close my eyes, and even though it's impossible, I can't keep the thought of their blood all over my hands as I take my crown and am introduced as victor out of my head.

* * *

><p><strong>Atlas Majors, 16, District Four<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>"I'm going to bed, goodnight losers." Ebba storms out of the living room with an aura of overconfidence and an ego the size of the Capitol. One day, that ego is going to be the downfall of her. That day might come sooner than she thinks it will.<p>

Our idiotic and simple-minded escort follows Ebba out of the living room area, and our mentors quickly leave together, all heading for the same bedroom, which can't mean something good or pure is happening in there.

"Interesting how we're the last ones up together, isn't it?" Deidre asks, shuffling herself over towards me on the long, tan couch that we are seated on. "We've not said more than five words to each other the entire time we've been in each other's presence, and now we're forced to interact since all the others are asleep." She laughs a little bit, a sort of laugh that you would expect from someone that is in their late childhood stage of life.

"Yes, I suppose it is interesting in a way."

"The Chariot Rides were certainly interesting, weren't they?" She smiles at me, and I can tell that she's trying to pry some personal information out of me, but I'm not biting. Relationships are pointless, even outside of the Games. People were only invented to hurt each other, and there's no way that I will ever form a relationship with someone that is the size of a young child.

"They were interesting."

"Not much of a talker are you?"

"Never have been."

"Hm," Deidre clicks her tongue and seems to be in deep thought before she opens her mouth again. "Well, maybe talking about yourself might feel a bit more natural then." She once again shifts her body in order to move closer to me, and then lays her head on a nearby pillow.

"Talking isn't my forte." She's clearly not getting the message that I really do not want to interact with her in any way shape or form, as she continues to stare at me waiting for me to talk to her about my personal life and experience. "If you really want to know something, I've trained since I was a young child. I have a few siblings. Tough parents. I like to use a dagger. That enough for you?"

"A dagger?" She scoffs, and then begins to laugh a little. "For someone of your stature a dagger doesn't make much sense to use, now does it?"

"And what, might I ask, is your preferred weapon?" I ask. "Surely someone of your stature can't handle more than a small knife or a sewing needle?"

I know I've crossed the line as soon as those words left my mouth, and I can see her eyes narrow and her dainty smile turn into an enraged frown. I don't really care if I piss off a person here or there, but I certainly don't want to piss someone off that could be a potential ally and someone that I could learn to really trust as these days go on.

"I happen to be the best shot with a bow in the academy, and I also happen to be known for taking down people that are older, stronger, and more talented than you are. You should have waited to volunteer boy, you're much too young now and there's no going back. I tried being polite with you, but you're nothing more than a mere shadow of Ebba. Good luck, you're going to need it."

After her little speech, Deidre storms away from me and into the hallway that has several doors leading into the many bedrooms in this floor. I can hear her slam the door shut, and finally silence ensues.

What the hell just happened though? She seemed like such a sweet little girl before this little meet and greet, but now I'm definitely wary of her. She was so sweet and naïve in my eyes just a few minutes ago, but like the flip of a switch she turned into this vicious, raging bitch. Bipolar possibly? Or maybe just extremely temperamental. Either way, she's turned from a naïve girl that just wanted to get to know me into a raging bitch that seemed to want to kill me.

The Chariot Rides are currently airing on the television in front of me, but I'm in no mood to watch that horrible event once again after I lived through it, so I shut the television off by clapping my hands together, and the screen turns to black very quickly. I get up off of the pale couch, and walk towards my designated room, which was ironically located next to Deidre's.

As I get into my room, I can't help but wonder how different everything would be if I hadn't volunteered and my brother had. Would Deidre have gone off on him like she did on me? Would I die and would my brother come back victorious? Would this be a mistake I would regret for the rest of my life?

These thoughts and many more will haunt me for the rest of my life, no matter how much longer my life shall be. These terrible thoughts plague me as I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Song: No Curtain Call by Maroon 5<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: Again, Olive here. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I am very happy to say it was on time! We're all very happy with how this chapter turned out, hopefully you all are as well. **

**If you could spare the time to drop us a review it would be much appreciated. It is always nice to hear how we are doing and check in with what you guys are thinking. Here are some questions we'd love to hear your responses to. **

_**Who are your favourites from this chapter?**_

_**Do you see any possible alliances?**_

**We will continue with the first day of training next chapter!**

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><p><strong>Side AN: I have started another story, also on this account, and I would love it if any of you would head over and submit! The story is called **_**Devils and Dust**_** and will be following the very first Hunger Games. Thanks!**


	7. Break

**Try by Colbie Caillat**

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><p><em>You don't have to try so hard<em>

_You don't have to bend until you break_

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><p><strong>Xylia Devrine, 18, District Twelve<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>Nothing says good morning like the slam of a hand outside your door.<p>

"Xylia, it's time to get up dear!" My Escort continues to rap her knuckles onto the steel door of my room, and apparently doesn't get the hint that I don't want to get up. "I can't have my only tribute being late for the first day of training!"

The shrill voice of my escort does nothing to me other than make my ears hurt. Her voice is one of the most annoying ones I've ever heard, and I wanted nothing more than to slap her in the face to shut her up. I rip the silk covers off of my body and stand up, facing the gigantic window that was right next to my king-sized bed. I shuffle to the door to the bathroom, but before I can slip in through the door my Escort barges through my door, shying away immediately at the sight of my rather exposed body.

"For the love of Panem please get ready… and put some clothes on." My Escort is still shying away from looking at me. Apparently, she's never seen a pale, thin district body before. "We don't want to be late."

"Correction, _you_ don't want _me_ to be late," I snap back. "Big difference." I can feel the glare of my Escort as I turn my head to walk in through the bathroom door. "I'm going to take a shower and get my training clothes on, then I'll meet you at the table for breakfast. Now shoo, unless you'd like to see more than you already have." With that small threat, my Escort takes off from my room, slamming the door shut behind her.

It's rather unfortunate that I am the lone tribute from District Twelve. I have no doubt if there was someone else to focus her attention on, she would most certainly focus her attention on them rather than me. But alas, I am the sole tribute from my wretched district and have to endure all of the unwanted attention that my Escort so loves to give me.

I slide out of my underwear that I was wearing to bed last night and turn on the shower. Right away steam protrudes from the water and fills the air around me, effectively making the room warmer than it previously was. The mirrors fog up and I take that as my cue to slip into the shower.

The water encases my body in a wet tube of sorts, and I am quite literally drenched in a matter of seconds. The warm water running down my body feels so relaxing and it's a luxury I didn't get very often at home. As I lather my body in a variety of shampoos and soaps, I can't help but bask in the amazing shower that I am standing in.

Back at home, we were lucky enough to have food on the table every night. My father and mother worked as best as they could to provide for myself, and I worked every job on the side that my body could manage. We were a tight knit family and were willing to do anything to help each other- and we did just that.

Sadly, my parents decided that it would be a _fantastic_ idea to have another child, despite the fact that they could barely support themselves and their one child they already had. My mother was immediately put out of work because she couldn't do much physical labor while pregnant, and as fate would have it, my father was diagnosed with breathing problems due to his extensive work in the coal mines, rendering him unable to work any longer.

This left me as the sole care taker for the family, and while it was difficult it taught me that hard work could get you every where. It may have hardened me and made me a stone cold bitch, but if everything didn't happen the way it did, I wouldn't be the person I am today.

After flashes of my sister's birth whiz through my mind, I rinse my pale body off for the last time and shut off the warm water with the handle in the shower, cutting off the water from my body quickly. I step out of the round shower room and wrap a towel around my body, trying to keep myself as warm as possible in the now seemingly chilly air. I wipe some fog off from the mirror and watch myself in the reflection. I purse my lips and grab a second towel on the floor, drying my dark hair quickly before throwing both towels on the floor and wandering into my bedroom once again.

I easily find the training outfit in the closet and slip it on. I notice the bright red stitching on my left arm reading '12F'. As if anyone wouldn't be able to identify the lone tribute from Twelve?

I saunter out of my regal bedroom and waltz into the dining area, where my irritating Escort is sitting in a chair, tapping her foot impatiently and sending a seething glare my way when she notices me walking into the room.

"You took forever Xylia!" She screeches. "We don't have time for breakfast at this point, you'll have to just wait for lunch dear." She scurries over to me in her high heeled shoes and loops her arm around mine, guiding me towards the elevator which is situated on the other side of the main room on the floor. "You'll be training for the majority of the day. You will have a break for lunch in the middle, and then training will resume before you come back up for the night. Do have fun dear, and please, try and change your attitude. Allies are wonderful to have!"

She hits a button in the elevator and the doors close swiftly, just as she moves her body out of the elevator. Guess she didn't want to accompany me on the way down. No matter,. I really don't need her nagging voice in my ear any longer.

The elevator reaches it's destination and the doors slide open once again, revealing the hallway with glass doors at the end that will lead me into the Training Center. Guess it's time to meet the other people that will be trying to kill me in a few days time.

How exciting.

* * *

><p><strong>Gideon Challene, 16, District Five<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>"Tributes."<p>

The one word brings all of the attention towards the centre of the semicircle that we have formed around the main floor of the Training Centre. Silence falls over the group of us as we all take in the woman standing before us who seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Welcome," her purple lips part in a sweet smile and I wonder who this girl is. She looks no older than twenty, with a strong but small frame and a cascading ponytail of thick hair falling over her shoulder. "My name is Vidia and I am the Head Trainer here at the Training Academy. My staff and I will be here to assist you in your preparation for the Quarter Quell."

I am dumbfounded that the small girl standing in front of me could possibly be a trainer, let alone the Head Trainer, but the more I look at her eyes the less surprised I am. She looks like the type of girl that won't settle for anything less than what she wants, and like some of the Career tributes that look dainty or delicate, she looks like she has the potential to be dangerous. I stand up a bit straighter, deciding that I should probably concentrate on why I am here instead of why she is.

"Before I let you loose on my centre, I was told to give you some words of encouragement," she continues, her eyes darting around to meet each one of us. As soon as her eyes find me I look down at my feet. "Look around you. Whether you know it or not, you are all in this together. As a group you will decide which one of you is best suited to take on the role of Victor. So I advise you to look to each other, criticize and watch. Train with things that you see them lacking skill in. Prepare yourself but note that everyone around you will be doing the same."

I swallow hard and do my best to commit her words to memory. I know what I came in today to work on, I discussed that with my mentors late last night when I found that sleep wasn't coming as easily as I'd hoped. Vidia's words make sense, though. I look up from the ground and look around shyly, getting my first good look at everyone as I would see them in the arena.

My chances are looking worse with every face I memorize.

"Now go on," Vidia says finally. "Learn what you can, figure out who you can trust, and probably most importantly decide what you don't have time for and can bullshit in the arena."

With that Vidia slips away to stand with the other trainers at the weapons stations. The Career tributes are the first ones that seem to be able to get their bearings, moving as a collective group towards where Vidia had gone. It takes a few more seconds, but soon everyone else begins to find the courage to go off in search of... whatever it was they were looking for.

Soon I realize that I am one of the only tributes still standing on the main floor and I scurry off to one side of the facility, my eyes searching for anything that might catch them. I skip over the weapons section entirely, I don't think I am quite ready to handle that amount of stress right now.

I notice a strange looking setup in one corner of the centre and head over to check it out. There are two podiums set up facing each other, each with a large touch screen pad on it. Further inspections proves that both pads are identical and seen to match up to two much larger screens that are displayed on the wall.

As I am playing around with the screen, seeing what exactly the setup would be used for, I notice Aluma standing a few feet away watching me. I give her a sideways glance and after an initial surprised reaction she scurries a bit closer to me.

"Hey Aluma," I say, mostly to break the awkward silence and to see what she wanted. I haven't really talked to Aluma very much, she has always kept to her room by herself during the free time we have had, but I can tell that she is about as genuine as they come. While I don't mind her hanging around with me, I also hadn't yet thought about us possibly being allies.

"What is it?" She whispers, pointing to the podium I am toying with.

"I think it's a game or something," I shrug. "All I've seen so far is that it lights up green when I match two of these tiny pictures together. It's probably a race to see who can do it faster, there's a timer up there."

"Oh cool," she says, her brown eyes lighting up. I assume that she would ask something else or say something else or... something. The silence is making me uncomfortable. I figure that she must want to talk or that she at least doesn't mind my company if she followed me here, but her distant expression doesn't help to make me any less self-conscious.

Finally I figure that I will have to be the one to continue this conversation, otherwise we will waste all day standing here staring at some stupid picture game. "Wanna play?"

Immediately her head shoots up and she nods excitedly, rushing to take the second podium as if someone might try to steal it from her. I sigh and press the start button. This game might be just a little bit pointless, but if it helps me get somewhere with Aluma I would say it's worth it.

* * *

><p><strong>Dierdre Lewell, 18, District Four<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>"No, like this," Eden corrects my posture and I nod at her graciously. "You get better leverage if you have one foot in the front."<p>

The first hour of training has been nothing like how I expected it would be. In District Four, training started with warm-ups, moving into strategy and practical skills, and then finally the majority of time spent training with our weapon groups. I was assigned to archery after my one year assessment, and I have never seriously trained with any other weapon since then.

It was an almost unanimous vote that we would all practice with a variety of weapons this morning, especially since it is not uncommon for certain weapons to be left out of the Cornucopia. So far I have found that I haven't lost much of my accuracy with throwing knives, but with most close range weapons I am struggling.

I didn't expect to forge anything more than a professional relationship with any of the other Career tributes. It was understood in my academy training that the alliance was imperative to success in the Games, but prior to meeting them last night at the Tribute Parade I hadn't really considered them anything more than a weapon.

My district partners I had been prepared for. I hadn't seen either of them before, but my guard was already long up before I even volunteered. I had no desire to make friends in this place, not with what would lie ahead. I had the tendency to be fiercely loyal, and the only one I could afford to be loyal to in the arena was myself.

Unfortunately, the other tributes took my by almost a surprise. As soon as I talked to Eden I knew I was in trouble. Right away she reminded me of Dominic, the only real friend I left behind in District Four. Since then it's been far too easy to talk to her, but I don't necessarily want to break the bond despite the uncertainty. I didn't realize how lonely I would feel surrounding myself with people that I won't let myself like.

"What's going on over there?" She says suddenly and I turn towards where she is looking. Raleigh and Jasper stand face to face with Arnette, and none of them look happy. Already, Ebba and Glint have noticed and are making their way towards the group. Eden and I look at each other and head over as well.

By the time we are standing around them, I have heard enough of the argument to vaguely understand what is happening and I can tell Eden and everyone else does as well, but even so Eden breaks in with the question. "What the hell is going on?"

Arnette is the first one to speak. "They don't think we should have a leader!"

No one knows what to say after that. I think to some degree we all want Raleigh or Jasper to clarify, maybe say that they simply don't want the District Two girl as the leader. After all it is customary that someone takes charge. With all the differences in training that the three career districts have received, it only makes sense.

Raleigh and Jasper look at each other, probably all too aware of the uneasy response of the rest of us. Finally, Jasper speaks up. "We discussed this in our suite last night. We feel that because of the size of the group it would make the most sense that we would all have equal control. Glint and Zaria were on board as of last night."

Al at once, everyone's gaze shifts to the remaining two District One tributes who each nod but say nothing. By the time I turn back to Arnette, her face is red with anger. "If you guys feel so strongly about that, then make your own group. I am sticking to what works."

"Okay then," Jasper says simply, his face remaining the picture of calm despite Arnette's absurd proposition. "If you want to be dictated, go with Arnette. If you want to win, come with Raleigh and I."

I don't consider the idea that they might be serious until I notice Glint and Zaris shifting to stand closer to Jasper and Raleigh. Almost just as quickly, Braden and Eden move in support of their District Two comrade. Soon enough, I realize that I have to make a move or else I am going to be left behind. My head swims with the two possibilities but I can't seem to make a decision.

Ebba and Atlas are standing with the District Two group before I can understand what is happening. I know that I have to choose, and fast, before both groups decide that they are better off without me.

I take a step towards the District One group and Raleigh's face lights up in a smile. She reaches her hand out and gently pulls me to her side, wrapping her arm around me. I shy away from her touch and she throws me a questioning look for a moment before it vanishes. At least she seems glad to have me, and it will definitely help that I am not with Ebba and Atlas anymore. This split might not actually be such a bad idea.

I lift my head up to look at the other group and all of a sudden it is like my heart has fallen into my stomach. The first person's gaze that I catch is Eden's, her lips parted and eyebrows creased with hurt. I'm almost certain that my face mimics hers as I realize what I have just done.

After a quick discussion that I am not a part of, my group decides that we are going to have our first run at the gauntlet and then the running track before lunch. When I don't immediately move with them, Raleigh softly pulls my arm and I stumble a couple steps forward.

I can't help myself, as I am led away from the other Careers I look back. The tension between the two groups is so thick that I don't know if a knife could cut it, but it is nothing in comparison to the look in Eden's eyes as we walk in opposite directions.

* * *

><p><strong>Arnette Lyrin, 18, District Two<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>Honestly, who does the bimbo bitch think she is?" I screech rather loudly, not caring what amount of people stare at me. "Honestly, does the blonde slut think that she can take me down? I've trained the same, if not longer than she has and I undoubtedly am better than her at any weapon she tries her hand at."<p>

I flip my bright red hair over my shoulder and continue to rant about how stupid Raleigh really is. Is she honestly that air headed that she thinks she can make her own pack to take on me and mine? Preposterous. She should better than to take me and my fellow pack members on.

"Calm down Arnette," I hear Eden say. "It's not like whining about it will make the situation any better." I whip my head around to stare at one of my District partners and send her a glare. I'm not whining. I'm simply venting my frustration on how an idiotic bimbo from One thinks that she can ruin my chances at being leader of the largest career pack in Games history.

"Whatever. The past is the past. Let's just move on and show the other pack what we are really made of." I'm not surprised at Ebba's desire to show some of the others up. She's a rather… unattractive female to say the least, and I assume the only way she can actually show up others is when she's training. By all means, as long she can kill, I have no problem with looks.

"I agree," Eden says and behind her, Braden nods his head. Always the quiet one and never speaking, I never really notice Braden until he makes his presence known. Honestly, I'm rather glad that he chose to stick with us. I certainly would like to see my enemy before they stab me in the back, and with Braden, I know I would never see him coming.

As we head over to the weapons station as a pack, I can't help but watch Braden some more. Being from District Two, we are hand chosen to enter the Games just after the previous ones conclude, giving us plenty of time to train in overdrive and assert our dominance, showing the other trainees why we were chosen over them and to show the trainers that they made the right decision in picking us. Braden and I were the chosen two to enter the Games, and I was always curious as to why he was chosen. I had never seen Braden before he was chosen, which isn't a shock considering the academy is rather large. The minute I saw him swing weapons around though, I knew why he was chosen.

Eden is a different story. The poor girl was rejected for these Games, her lost shot at entering and dominating. But when the Quell was announced, the trainers unanimously agreed that Eden would be joining us. Obviously, like us, she was chosen to enter for a reason and must not be taken lightly. I know the girl is an edgy one, and it would be in my best interest not to piss her off more than I absolutely need to. I've probably pissed her off enough today, best not piss her off anymore any time soon.

"Arnette?" I snap out of my thoughts and quickly turn to Atlas. "Would you like to answer the question?"

"Excuse me?" I ask, not aware that a question was asked to me.

"I said, what weapon should we begin to train with?" Atlas raises his eyebrow and I squint my eyes into a glare, not pleased with his lack of respect for the leader.

"Train with whatever you please," I tell the pack. "Show off as best as you can. We want to intimidate the other tributes as much as possible, especially the other pack." They all nod and turn away, going over to train with their respective weapons of choice. I, however, carefully watch all of them before I begin hacking away at a dummy with my specialty weapon, a stiletto sword.

Coming into this, I knew that Braden was most comfortable with throwing knives. When I first found out, I nearly laughed my head off. Someone of that size, stature, and gender surely couldn't be accurate enough to throw those tiny knives at targets? I couldn't have been more wrong. He was impeccable and hit every target squarely in the center. Rather impressive, I might add. Eden also was not a mystery. We had sparred several times before coming her, and I knew she was well trained with spears. The District Four tributes though, were a total mystery.

Atlas shifted towards the simple knife station and picked up a few daggers, easily slicing through the dummies placed in front of him. Interesting that someone like him would pick something so simple and easy to use, but at least he knows how to use them well. Ebba was rather typical, if I do say so. She went straight for what Four was known for being good at- tridents. She threw a few tridents around at the dummies and proceeded to slash at a few more, cotton spilling to the floor in lumps.

As she turned around to slash another dummy, she caught me staring and flashed me a hideous smirk, revealing her unpolished teeth. She quickly turned back and continued to mutilate dummies left and right, probably intimidating most of the other tributes.

I calmly made my way over to the swords station and picked one up, throwing it between my hands and testing its weight. Deciding it was good enough for me to use, I walked over to the dummies in the section and began to hack away at them, imagining them to be people in my life that had crossed me.

As I came down to the last dummy that was still upright, I imagined the neck to be that of Raleigh's. I grinned as I brought my sword up to the neck and made a quick slash across it, sending cotton tumbling to the floor.

Oh yes, these Games were certainly most worth volunteering for.

* * *

><p><strong>Matilda Prescott, 18, District Nine<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>"Savvy, your hair, it's a mess," I can't help but point out as the three of us take our seat. I catch the younger girls eye roll, but I smile when she reaches up to fix her hair.<p>

"We have been training," she sarcastically grumbles.

It was quite a rough morning, if I must say. Savvy and Maelle both decided today was weapons day, so we've been wielding them all morning, much to my dismay. So far what we've learned is that Maelle can swing a machete, and Savvy can punch with one of those silly knuckle things. But me, well I can hold a knife, and that's about it.

I tried several things; a machete, a scythe, even a crossbow! But nothing, most of the trainers just laughed when I attempted to face them. I hardly care though, that's not my role in this alliance, Savvy and Maelle can defend us, im just here to lead.

"Maelle, stop that," I screech when the girl begins dragging her knife along her plate.

"Yah Maelle," Savvy jokes, sticking her tongue out at the older girl.

"Savvy! How rude, this a table. Have some manors!"

Both girls chuckle and role their eyes, though I have no idea why. I just shake my head, taking a bite out of the bread they have provided us with for lunch. I'll never understand the Capitol; we've received nothing but the best food since we've arrived, and now, during training we are given a small cup of soup and a single slice of bread. This is most certainly not enough to give me the energy I need to learn how to do what I need to do.

"So, interviews, who knows what their doing?"

Maelle does nothing but glare at me, and Savvy just shakes her head, continuing to eat her soup. I don't understand the pair sometimes, they asked me to join their alliance, but everything I try to contribute they just shoot down. I begin to think this alliance might be a bad idea, but then I remember how totally screwed I'd be without one. If only Savvy and Maelle would just listen and do what I say, but neither girl is very passive. An idea suddenly pops into my mind. I may not be able to control Savvy and Maelle as much as I'd like, but what's to say I can't add someone to this alliance who could.

"What do you girls think of adding a fourth member to our little group?"

Savvy and Maelle exchange a glance, both looking a little more than skeptical.

"What's wrong with just the three of us?"

"Oh nothing, I just thought the more numbers we have the better," I say, already searching the room for the perfect match. I consider the little girls from District Seven and Eleven, but there's not much they can do for me, plus they both come off as a little bit sassy and I haven't got the time for that. The girl from Twelve sits alone, glaring at anyone who nears her. Definitely not that one, she doesn't look easily controlled.

I smile as I spot the District Ten girl, sat alone at a table, awkwardly picking at her slice of bread. I remember her from the parade. I had seen her being yelled at by her District partner, and I had quickly intervened. The boy was cute, no doubt, but he was nothing short of an asshole, yelling at the girl for being scared of what was to come. The girl had thanked me, but nothing more had come out of the conversation. Shortly after we parted ways, and I never even caught her name, but I will this time.

"What about her?" I chime, nodding towards the lonely looking girl.

"I watched her in training, timid thing she is. She's not useful, so my vote is no," Maelle calmly says, returning to her soup without so much as a second thought.

"If nothing more, she'd be a good meat shield," I quickly say, before Savvy can voice her opinion.

"That's horrid Mattie," I shrug, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do, but really that's not the real reason I want her.

I stand up without another word, floating off towards the girl, completely ignoring the protests and groans I get from my allies. They just don't understand, I need this girl, and I always get what I need.

"Hi there, remember me?" I say as I sit down directly across from the girl. She looks around nervously, before nodding her head.

"You look lonely over here all by yourself."

"I'm used to it," she says, and I can't help but catch the sadness in her voice.

"I'm Matilda, but no one calls me that ugly name. Mattie is more to my style, and I'm the sole representative from District Nine!" I introduce myself with a smile, in attempt to ease the girls nerves.

"Corlis, District Ten."

"What a pretty name, why don't you come sit with us? I'm sure you'd feel much better with a few friends!" I say, grabbing the girls hand before she can reply, and dragging her over to the table where Savvy and Maelle still sit.

"She agreed!" I cheer as soon as Corlis and I sit, though I don't think she actually ever did. I can't remember, anyways she's sitting with us so that must mean she agreed!

Maelle and Savvy exchange another glance, before cautiously introducing themselves to Corlis, who repeats the exact introduction she gave me.

"Don't mind them, they can be a little rude sometimes," I say as I nudge Corlis with a chuckle. Surprisingly she smiles back, letting out a little chuckle of her own. Look at her, already starting to come out of her shell, all thanks to me! I'm some sort of miracle worker I think, whatever it is, it won't take me long to get Corlis right where I want her, which is right in the palm of my hand. I'm not exactly sure what I'll need her for, but it can never hurt to have someone in your back pocket, especially if it comes down to the four of us, because I have an odd feeling Maelle and Savvy would turn on me before each other.

Oh well, I have Corlis now, which means I can do whatever I want, including take out Savvy and Maelle if that's what I see fit.

These are my Games, and they're going to go exactly how I want them to.

* * *

><p><strong>Maelle Thurske, 18, District Three<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>I still have no idea what Matilda was thinking.<p>

The alliance of Savvy, Matilda, and I was perfectly fine just the three of us. We worked well together in this first morning of training, and we seemed to be getting along well enough, though Matilda definitely was a little…odd. My suspicions of her were furthered even more when she randomly added another member to our alliance, Corlis from Ten.

Not that Corlis is a bad person, by any means. It's just very strange that Matilda would,on a whim, randomly add someone else to our already working alliance, even after I had vetoed the idea when it was originally presented to me. Something is definitely off, and I'm going to really have to watch my back.

"So girls," Matilda says. "Where to now?" Corlis looks down at her shoes and Savvy makes no motion to speak, so I take the liberty to answer her question.

"I think it might be a good idea to train with the weapons some more. Especially now that Corlis is here, it might be a good idea to see what she can do." Corlis springs her head up and I can see the worry in her eyes after being asked to show what she can do. Clearly, the answer there is that she can't do much, as I originally suspected.

"I think we should look at some survival skills!" Matilda says, way too cheery for my liking. "Don't you agree Corlis?"

At the mention of her name being brought up again, Corlis frantically looks around at us, struggling to form a response when everyone is looking at her.

"Well, I-I think we should-"

"Then it's settled, survival skills it is!" Matilda giggles happily and claps her hands, quickly sliding her arm around Corlis' arm and yanks her towards the survival station, practically yanking the poor girl's arm off. Guess survival skills it is.

As Corlis and Matilda are rushing ahead of us, I take the time to hang back with Savvy and get her opinion on the Matilda and Corlis situation that we are facing.

"How are you dealing with everything?"

"Everything is fine I guess," Savvy says. "I'd rather be home obviously, but it could be a lot worse right now. We're definitely fairing better than most other tributes are right now."

"You're not at all worried about Matilda though?" I ask. "I mean, she added Corlis on a whim even after we obviously didn't want her to be here, and now she's acting like she owns us and controls us."

"I think paranoia is already starting to get to you," Savvy responds. "But it definitely wouldn't hurt to keep our guard up and keep an eye out for her." Savvy smiles at me and I give a small smile back, not completely satisfied that Savvy doesn't share my concerns completely. How is it that I'm the only one that can sense that something isn't right with this girl?

As we approach the survival station, I see Savvy walk back over towards Corlis and give her a warm smile. Savvy is definitely trying to build bridges for us, because at this point Corlis hasn't said one word to either of us, and if something ever does happy with Matilda, we'll definitely need all the help we can get to take her down.

As Savvy talks with Corlis, I notice Matilda out of the corner of my eyes sorting some leaves on the ground. I walk over to her and sit down, cross-legged, next to her. As I sit next to her, she tilts her head to see my face and she smiles at me before resuming to finishing sorting the leaves in front of her. When she finishes, she turns to me and smiles again.

"I know you don't like me." Her sudden serious tone shocks me, as she is usually filled with cheeriness and is always bubbly. "It's written all over your face, don't think I can't see that. I'm here to tell you that you need to get in check. I'm the leader here, and don't think I wouldn't hesitate to kick you out."

"Excuse me?" I state, completely in shock at what has just been relayed to me.

"Don't tell Savvy or Corlis about the conversation we just had, dear. Because if you do… expect the rest of your life to be hell on earth."

She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder and shuffles over to where Savvy and Corlis are seated. She smiles warmly at them and acts as if the conversation with me didn't just happen.

I knew something was up with this girl, and I'm seriously regretting getting into an alliance with her. At this rate, my lifeline is very short, and it honestly scares me. I want to tell Savvy and Corlis that we have a monster in our alliance, but I know if I do that then Matilda will most certainly kill me, and I really don't want to die. But on the other hand, I know if I don't spill what happened, I'm leaving a ticking time bomb in our alliance that is sure to explode and send shrapnel at not only me, but my other allies as well.

Just how long is the timer on Matilda's inner time bomb?

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper Graves, 18, District One<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>So far nothing in the Capitol has gone as planned. First off, Raleigh has convinced me that separating the pack was our best bet, and not only that, she some how convinced me to be the one to initiate her plan.<p>

It was simple really, tell Arnette we didn't want a leader, and send the girl into overdrive. It wasn't hard to tell that Arnette wanted to be the leader, and she reacted just how Raleigh said she would. She flipped, suggesting the careers split, and I merely agreed. And now, we have two career packs, which has it's ups and down, though Raleigh seems to think the positives out weight the negatives, though I'm not too sure.

"Jasper, trainings over," I turn to see Raleigh standing directly behind me, smirking at the dummy I had previously been destroying with my rapier.

"You really went to town," she laughs, and I nod, giving her a small smirk before retuning my sword to the station and walking towards the elevators.

Raleigh joins me on my walk, keeping in line with my pace, even though her eyes are constantly observing everyone we pass. It's a skill that I have no idea how she does; for a dumb blonde, she sure knows how to walk without paying attention.

Of course Raleigh isn't actually that dumb, she just has her quirky moments that make me want to shake her until she sees how idiotic she's being.

"I told you my plan would work," she brags once we are safely alone in the elevator.

"Somewhat," I say, attempting to bring her down a peg on the ego. "You said most of them would come with us, though it's split right down the middle."

"I don't understand it, they're idiots if they think Arnette is in any position to lead them to victory. It doesn't matter though, Glint and Zaria stuck to their word, and we have Dierdre, we could take them down."

"Its not going to be as easy as you're making it out to be."

Raleigh doesn't reply, instead she just rolls her eyes at me. She can be so immature at times, and just plain naive. It's a wonder she made it onto that stage at the reaping, I have no idea what the academy sees in her to send her in, but whatever it is she's hiding it, and I won't soon forget that.

Raleigh may have everyone else fooled, but I know she can't be as.. Well as stupid as she wants everyone to believe she is. I know the academy, and I know how hard it is to be chosen for the Games, perhaps better than anyone else. I've been trying to get in since I started, and year after year I was denied, never being good enough for the Games, this year being no different. Glint was chosen, and I had all but accepted that I would never step foot in an arena, but when the quell was announced, I was the only one with the dedication to keep training, so the academy didn't really have any other choices but to pick me. Raleigh wasn't chosen for her good looks, no matter how good they are.

She's hiding something, and perhaps that's why I'm so drawn to her. She's peeked my interest no doubt, and no matter how much I have to scold her, I plan on bringing her along with me, until either she gets too annoying, or becomes un-useful, whichever happens to come first.

The elevator clicks open, and Raleigh and I step back onto our floor. The first thing I notice is that Glint and Zaria are already sat the dinning table with our escort, blabbering away about the days events.

"You're really separated? Oh my the Capitol is going to love it! Two career packs! Whose wonderful idea was this?"

I open my mouth to give the credit where credit is deserved, but Raleigh quickly cuts me off.

"Jasper thought of it, it's pretty smart." I glance at Raleigh, raising any eyebrow in a questioning manor. But she just smiles and shrugs, returning to the conversation that has already switched topics to some trivial thing I couldn't care less about.

Soon it becomes too much for me, and I quietly excuse myself to my room, away from everyone. I can only handle them for so long before they annoy me too much and I need to get away for a little while.

Zaria isn't too bad, she's rather similar to me in the aspect that's she's more to herself. Heck I've only heard the girl speak a few times. But Glint, Glint is your stereotypical District One tributes. He's his own favourite person, and I've heard nothing come out of his mouth that didn't relate to how great he is. Raleigh is Raleigh. She's nice to be around, but eventually the bubbly attitude makes me want to snap, and considering I want to work with her for a while, that's not exactly a good idea.

Raleigh wasn't actually my first choice. I would have much rather worked with Zaria, but after only a few short conversations I knew she wasn't to be trusted. I'd have a knife in my back before the second day.

I haven't told Raleigh yet, but once the other pack is down in numbers, we're leaving our pack, perhaps taking out a few on our way. Groups have never been my thing, and I know Glint and Zaria would have no problems turning on me, and Diredre is too much of a wild card to keep around. Actually, if it wasn't for her accuracy with her bow I doubt she'd even be in with the careers; she's smaller then most of the little ones.

I consider a nap, after all there isn't much else for me to do. Socializing with the others has already ran it's limit, and unfortunately I can't go back down and train until the morning. Yes, a nap sounds nice. I'm going to need the energy for tomorrow anyways. The famous Killzone. It's something I've been looking forward to since I was chosen to volunteer. It's the true test, it'll not only tell me how ready I am, but how ready my competitors are, and who I need to target early on.

I'm just closing my eyes as a loud nock startles me, followed by Raleigh screaming at me through the door, letting me know supper is being served.

"Give me a minute you little twat," I yell back when she continues to loudly bang on the door. Day One of training and Raleigh is already driving me crazy, perhaps I did make the wrong choice in partners. Oh well, what's done is done, and there's no going back. I'll just have to work on Raleigh a little bit before we actually get into the Games, because as this rate I'll be working on my own before the gong has even sounded.

* * *

><p><strong>Winifred Herring, 12, District Eleven<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>I push the little green spheres around my plate, absentmindedly tuning out the chatter of my mentor and escort. I was so excited to come up here and tell them about the day, but all they have done is talk over me every time I try to speak. I didn't need to leave District Eleven to get this kind of treatment.<p>

It's strange how people that come from completely different walks of life can have turned out so similar. Kia, the person who drew my name at the Reaping, was presumably brought up in some variety of luxury. She is impeccably dressed every time I see her, in clothes that would not be functional in any sort of hands on work, and her posture reminds me of Ms Decker so much that it's almost scary.

While for most of my time in Abundance Park, the local orphanage, Ms Parsons was the one to take primary care of me, Ms Decker was in the picture far too much for my liking. She always wore these long, ridiculous dresses and had her nose up so high that she would have drowned if it rained. Despite the difference in fashion and age, Ms Decker and Kia could be the same person. Both of them seem to have some weird idea that they are above everyone that has the honour of being around them.

I can't help but break out in a smile when I think about Ms Decker. She always loved to tell me how I would be going nowhere except the orchids when I grew up. Well look at me now Ms Decker, I'm going to be a television star. The thought of her seeing me on the big screen in the cafeteria makes me want to laugh as much as it makes me want to cry.

"Winifred?"

I look up from my dinner to see Kia and Leon staring at me and my face instantly feels about a thousand degrees warmer. I whisper the correction so quietly that I am not sure if either of them heard it. "Winnie, please."

"How was your first day," Kia chirps as simply as if she were asking me how my first day of school went.

"Pretty okay," I say and I am not lying. The beginning of the day was just as horrible and awkward as I thought it would be, my eyes not willing to overlook the sheer size of a lot of the other tributes. But by the end of the day I felt almost comfortable in the small area of the centre that I found interest in. I even think I might have made a friend.

"Did you get any ally requests?" She pressed. "I've been looking into the girls from Nine and Twelve, Matilda and Xylia. They look like wonderful girls for you to stick with, strong and the Capitol audience has taken some interest in them already."

"Have you heard anything back from their mentors?" Leon asks, a slight smirk on his face. I can't exactly put my finger on what bothers me about the only living District Eleven Victor, but ever since I met him the look on his face is enough to make me hate him.

"Well... no," Kia admits. "I won't rest until I do though I can assure you that."

"You don't have to worry about that," I tell her. "I've already found an ally for myself."

"Oh, who!?" Kia asks excitedly.

"His name is Toby, he's from District Three." As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret telling them at all. Kia's face falls seconds after hearing her name, but she says nothing to me. She turns and gives Leon a sideways look, one that I am all too familiar with. Adults all seem to have practiced that 'I'm so disappointed in her but don't let her see' look.

"Kiddo," Leon begins. "Do you understand the reason why we are suggesting Nine and Twelve as allies?"

"They're strong," I nod, my eyes filling with angry tears. "But Toby is strong too, and he's kind to me."

"They'll protect you, that is why," Leon continues, seemingly without so much as hearing my defence. "This a big-girl game, those other tributes are not going to be gentle with you just because you're younger than they are. They'll rip you apart just like they'll do to anyone else."

"Leon!" Kia scolds, then places her hand over mine with an apologetic look."He doesn't mean that. We just want you to be in the best position you can be, for your safety."

I snatch my hand away, not even bothering to blink away the tears that have begun to blur my vision. "I don't need protecting. I'm not a baby, stop treating me like one!"

I stand and slam both hands on the table, walking away as the cutlery clatters behind me. I hear Kia shout something at Leon or maybe even at me, but neither of them follows me as I storm into my room. Thank Panem because I don't think I would be able to stop myself from hurting either one of them if they had.

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Try by Colbie Caillat<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Mixing it up a little here, it's Fin! I trust you all enjoyed that chapter as much as we enjoyed writing it? I'm sure you did who am I kidding it was great! And... only one day late! Go team!**

**I think I speak for the three of us when I say we'd really appreciate it if you could take time out of your busy days to just quickly voice your opinion in the form of a review maybe? Thanks guys!**

**I think that is all for now? No new announcements, though I am hoping next weeks chapter is on time.. I'm looking at you Ace! ;)**

**OH questions of course!**

**_So, the careers are split! Thoughts? Which career pack do you like better?_**

**_Alliances are slowly starting to form, any early favourite alliances?_**

_**And finally, as always your favourite tributes and/or POVs from this chapter?**_


	8. Hope

**Move Along by The All-American Rejects**

_And even when your hope is gone_  
><em>Move along, move along just to make it through.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Shay Langford, 15, District Seven<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>I sit up in my bed, finally coming to terms with the fact that I will not be sleeping any more. I shuffle to the floor, a good three foot drop from the top of the mattress, and go to find a clock. The hallway is dark when I cautiously step out into it, the silence enveloping me completely. Every other door is shut and I don't even hear breathing from inside.<p>

I walk right through the dining area and into a small kitchen. The first thing that catches my eye is a big wall clock on the far side of the room. I stare at it for a few moments; it's been forever since I've had to read one for myself.

A shriek and then a second later a shattering sound come from very close to me and I can't help but scream in surprise. I search the room quickly, first seeing the white shards of broken ceramic on the floor and then finally seeing someone staring at me as if I just assaulted them.

It takes me a moment but I finally recognize him. "Regan?"

"What the hell are you doing in here?" He hisses, looking back and forth between the broken mug on the floor and me.

"I-I." Words fail me for a moment as I stare at him. "I was looking for a clock."

His eyes narrow as he stares at me, and then suddenly he breaks out in a soft laugh. I can't help myself, I break out in a smile and soon enough there we both are laughing in the kitchen at four in the morning.

"You know there's a digital one in your room?" He says, the smile staying on his face. I've never talked to Regan, he always had this look on his face that made me want to stay as far away from him as possible. Maybe it's the early time that's got him in a goofy mood, but I feel a weird sense of guilt that maybe someone should have tried talking to him.

"A... a what?" I ask, his statement sinking in. I remember scanning my room for a clock before I left. There was nothing on the walls that I could see.

"The little box on the table beside your bed," he says. "It shows the time?"

"Oh." I remember tinkering with the number box when I first got here, not knowing what it was. I feel my cheeks heat up and Regan's laughing returns. Soon enough I'm laughing right along with him once again. I think we're both in dire need of some quality sleep.

Neither of us say anything, and then I remember something. "Why are you here at four in the morning?"

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugs. "I figured I would get a head start on the stupendous amount of coffee that I'll be needing to get through today."

"I hate the taste," I say simply.

"Me too," he replies, cracking a sideways smile.

"Do you want me to help you clean that up?" I ask, pointing towards the pile of the mug's shattered remains.

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's people here whose job it is to do that shit for us. Besides, you should probably go back to sleep now that you found your... er, clock."

I give a small chuckle. "I've been awake for hours, I don't think I'd be able to go to sleep if I knocked myself over the head with one of those mugs."

"Fair enough," he shrugs. "Sleeping here hasn't been going well for me either."

"It's too quiet," I agree.

His brow creases as he thinks about that. "That's exactly it. I used to live on the edge of the forest, it's never been this silent before."

"I lived near the forest too," I say. "The edge of Burnaby, my father was the head carpenter for the area."

"Burnaby?" You're kidding?" He says. "What's your father's name, if you don't mind if I ask?"

"Cyder Langford."

"No way," he says, shaking his head.

"What?" I ask and suddenly he just looks at me, not saying a word. Something changes about his face and I swear that I could see the guilt in his eyes. He turns and rushes out of the kitchen without another glance in my direction.

I am left standing by myself, as confused as ever by the strange boy. For a second there it seemed like we were almost... bonding. Why did he leave? Did I offend him with what I say. I replay the conversation again in my mind; I replay the guilt in his eyes just before he ran away from me.

A few minutes later I still have no idea what I did to send him away. I glance up at the clock and see that it's been a half an hour since I first checked it and I decide to go back to my room for a couple hours until I'll be dragged out again to get ready for training.

I don't even bother turning on the light when I get back to my bedroom. I sit down on my bed and stare up at the canopy over my bed. I try to force Regan out of my mind, knowing that I am unlikely to find an explanation in the fabric patterns or anywhere else, but I can't brush him away.

I close my eyes for just a second and open them again several hours later to loud knocking on my door and a shrill, female voice screaming that I am going to be late. I sigh and stare up at the top of the canopy again, last night's dreams still not quite having left me. I promise myself that I'll find a way to talk to Regan before we leave the Capitol, whether he wants to or not.

* * *

><p><strong>Aston Moroque, 15, District Six<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>I stifle a yawn as Tatum and I exit the elevator. It's far too early for anyone to be awake, let alone for us to be expected to basically work out. I understand that time is of the essence and that we are supposed to be preparing for this big epic death fight, but I would much rather spend my last few days sleeping in instead of being reminded every time I look at another tribute that all but one of us are going to be dead in two weeks.<p>

I never get a break from all of this craziness. It's like now that my name was pulled from some stupid random lottery I am supposed to be okay with being paraded around and trained to do things that would have been unthinkable in my normal life back in Six. Tatum seems to be adapting well to the change but I just can't seem to. It's not fair. I'm fifteen years old. I've gone to school for most of my life preparing for a future that I won't even be able to get a chance to create.

I look over at Tatum and can't help but wonder how she does it. How any of the other tributes do it for that matter. The Career tributes I can understand because, well, this is their future. They live their lives up until now knowing that they will be here eventually. The rest of us didn't have a damn clue. Twenty-four kids that could have done anything with the rest of their lives and it's being wasted because of some dumb mistakes that happened over a hundred years ago.

Maybe I should be taking this more seriously and preparing like I'm being told to do, but I just don't think I can bring myself to give myself hope like that. I'm already expecting that I am going to die in whatever arena they choose to throw us in. The one good thing about this is that there is nothing else they can do to break me. I've already shattered myself.

"Aston?" Tatum looks back at me from a few feet away. "Aren't you coming?"

"Of course," I say, flashing her a toothy grin. It was yesterday, or rather last night, that we decided to team up. I can't say I was expecting the conversation, especially after the whole situation from the train, but it was welcome. I feel better about trusting her for some reason since she comes from District Six. The other tributes feel so far away, but at least I can at least hope that Tatum comes from the same morals as I do.

I haven't let Tatum hear my thoughts about what is going to happen once we get in the arena. If there is even an ounce of hope still left in her then I don't want to be the one to take it away. Ever since we got into the Capitol it has been as if Tatum has become an entirely different person. I can't even look at Tatum and see the girl who was crying by the train car window. She's nothing like that weak girl.

Tatum and I walk over to join the other tributes. We're a bit early again today and as our mentors said earlier we won't be allowed to start until eight o'clock. It's seven fifty-seven right now, as the digital clock on the wall tells me, so we should be allowed to start in approximately three minutes. For now we wait in an awkward group with the other tributes in the middle of the training centre.

"What do you think we should focus on today," I ask, mostly just to fill the awkward quiet that surrounds us. I can just barely hear the other tributes murmuring amongst each other as we wait to be told we can begin.

"Weapons," she replies rather quickly. I must have let my surprise show because her smile dies down a bit and she continues. "I'd like to work on finding a weapon that will work for me. If that's alright."

"Sounds good to me." In all honesty I don't really care what we work on. Yesterday I spent most of the day wandering around and hanging out near the areas where other tributes were working. It's not really my style to show off what I can do, even if the amount I have to show off is pretty lacking. I'm about two hundred percent sure that if I had participated in any of the stations that I would have given something away, however.

"Awesome," she grins and turns away, ending the conversation.

With nothing else to do I find myself looking around at the other tributes. There are thirty of us this year, six more than in most years. Unfortunately the numbers were gained mostly in the Career districts. I noticed the split up last day, which was a bit disheartening I have to say. If somehow I make it past the first day this means that instead of one large Career group prowling the arena looking for me there will be two. If either the one large group or either of the two smaller groups found me I am certain it would mean death but I would have felt better only having to avoid one pack.

"Welcome, tributes, to your second day of training. You may begin at any time."

I turn and see that Tatum looks slightly startled by the voice that seems to have come out of nowhere. When she doesn't move first I extend my hand making her jump. "Shall we?"

Her smile returns but she makes no move to take my hand and after an awkward second I allow it to drop to my side.

"We shall."

* * *

><p><strong>Hunter Mathot, 16, District Ten<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>They're all a bunch of idiots.<p>

Every last one of them is an idiotic, lower class imperfection. I was hoping that by some chance I'd find someone to fight along side, but as of now there was no one anywhere near worthy enough to even speak to me.

"You're holding it wrong."

"Shut up," I spit as the trainer attempts to correct me. Even the Capitol people aren't of my standards, they're just as judgemental as the tributes are. I throw the spear in my hand at the target, but it flies past the dummy I was aiming for and skids across the ground.

I catch a smirk from the District Two girl as she throws her spear right beside me, only hers hits dead centre of the dummies chest. What a show off, I wouldn't mind meeting up with her in the arena, and then I can really show her whose superior.

I turn from the spear station, eyes scanning the room for something else to do before lunch, and then after, the Killzone. My eyes land on Corlis, sitting amongst her little group of girls, all desperately rubbing sticks together in attempt to start a fire, none of them coming up with any luck.

Corlis was so proud that she managed to sneak her way into an alliance. I remember last night she wouldn't shut up about it until I had to yell at her. I hope she realizes none of those idiots are going to save her. They're a bunch of untrained, desperate girls trying to do anything they can to make it out of this alive. It wouldn't surprise me if they turn on my District partner the first night, that is if she even makes it out of the bloodbath.

I consider going over and showing the girls how it's done, but something tells me I wouldn't be pa welcomed guest, considering the exchange me and the District Nine girl had at the parade.

My eyes continue to scan the room, until I come across a rather odd trio all taking up residence at the rope climbing station. The little girl from Seven, surrounded by the boy from Four and the red-headed girl from Two.

Being the most interesting thing I can find, I stroll over. I grab a rope when I arrive, in attempt to make it look like I'm actually here to train, but really I'm just trying to eaves drop on their conversation.

"If you would just leave me alone I would really appreciate it," the little girl says, a tone of anger creeping into your voice.

"Why don't you just tell us why you were listening to our conversation?"

"I wasn't aware there were any rules against it," she says, grabbing a rope and begging to climb up it.

She doesn't get very far though, because the District Two bitch grabs the rope she is climbing and repeatedly shakes it until she loses her grip and tumbles to the ground. I take this is as my cue to step in.

"I'm not sure that's allowed there pretty lady," I purr, stepping past the two careers and in front of the little one. "Why don't you monkeys run off and rejoin your heard, or whatever it is you call a group of you."

The girl looks like she's going to burst, and the boy looks as if he could kill me right now, but surprisingly they don't say another word as they walk off to rejoin their group. Though I do catch a few of the other monkeys looking my way as they whisper in each others ear. Looks like I just got their attention.

"Sorry," I turn to see the little girl still sitting on the ground, bright eyes looking up at me. I nod in response, before turning around and heading off in another direction. It's not long before I hear a pair of little footsteps coming up behind me.

"You didn't have to intervene you know, I could of handled those monkeys alone," I smile at the girls use of my term, though being from District Seven it wouldn't surprise me if she knew what a monkey was.

I don't reply, instead I pick up my speed, already getting fed up with the girl and her annoying habits.

"Look you big idiot, I've seen you glaring at all the other tributes, heck I even see you yell at your District partner a number of times, people aren't exactly your thing. So why on earth did you save me?"

I try to hide the smile that somehow makes it's way onto my face. This girl does have spunk, I'll give her that.

"It was a one time thing, deary, now run off."

"Nah I'm good, I think I'll hang with you for a bit."

"I think not," I say, turning once again to find another station. My eyes meet the sword station, and I decide to give it a go. When I arrive at the station, I pick a fairly heavy sword and begin hacking away at the nearest dummy.

A few moments later, I look to my right to see the crazy little girl, struggling to hold the exact same sword I'm using, sloppily stabbing at a dummy.

I just shake my head, continuing my attack on the dummy I now have pictured as that girl from Two.

Soon enough the girl gives up, throwing the sword down and stalking off to find a more suitable weapon for it. I laugh when I see her pick up a sling shot, but my smile disappears when I see her casually send her ammo into the head of a dummy nearly half way across the gym, visually startling the girl from Twelve, who had previously been hacking away at the thing with a sword of her own.

By the time I turn back, the young girl is halfway up the net wall, sling shot in hand. When she reaches the top, she hooks her small legs around a rope, before leaning back so she's upside down.

She takes aim with her sling shot, and completely takes the head off my dummy. She's unhooks her legs, uprights herself, and drops to the ground, smirking at me.

I'm sure my jaw must be on the floor. Where on earth could a fourteen year old girl from Seven learn that?

"Lavender," she says when she nears me, sticking out her hand.

"Hunter," I reply, taking the girls small hand in my own.

* * *

><p><strong>Zaria Tullius, 18, District One<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>"Let's sit over here!" Raleigh giggles and sets her gray tray down on the circular table that lies in front of me. She pulls out one of the chairs and sits herself down, using her now empty hands to smooth her pants down even though they are skin tight and don't need smoothing.<p>

I obey her wishes and slide into a seat that is two away from Raleigh, not being able to sit directly next to her because her personality makes me want to drown myself in a puddle of acid.

Any blind person can see that she is putting on a heavy façade, and if she thinks she's fooling anyone other then Jasper, she is lying to herself. Whether she knows this or not, she continues to put on a fake persona and giggles her way through training, but at least she gets the job done I guess, no matter how annoying her way of doing the job is.

Glint pulls up a seat next to me, and nods in my direction. I flash a quick smile back and spoon in a mouthful of soup, the only food that they had provided us once again. I watch the other two members of our pack, Jasper and Deidre, pull up the two seats next to Raleigh and engage in conversation with her, though Raleigh clearly dominates the conversation by giggling and making flirtatious jokes with Jasper.

It's blatantly obvious that this pack is not as united as Raleigh would like us to appear to be. It is all about appearances for that girl, and she certainly would throw a petty fit if she knew that her appearances weren't holding up as she'd like them to.

"Does that girl ever shut her mouth?" Glint whispers to me. I crack a smile and have to hold in a laugh, because I know that he's thinking the same way that I am. "I know she's a ditzy blonde but gosh, does she have to pour it on that thick?"

"She doesn't even realize she's over compensating," I say to Glint. "Soon enough that one will get what's coming to her, whether it be from one of us, one of Arnette's pack, or an outer district one. I hope she gets whipped in the killzone today."

Ah, the killzone. Something every trainee is warned about and is prepared for. Everyone knows that this is the time to show the sponsors what you're really made of and what you would be capable of doing in the arena. I definitely want to do as well as I can and prove to these other people that I'm not some incompetent twig like they all make me out to be. I can do just as well as the heavy hitters in my alliance and the other career pack, they'll see.

"Zaria dear?" I hear Raleigh's idiotic, bubbly voice penetrate my thoughts and I tilt my head to face her. "Jasper, Deidre, and I were just talking about the other pack and who is the biggest threat and who can be written off. Who do you believe is the biggest threat?"

The question takes me slightly off guard, if I'm honest. I don't normally express my thoughts, nor does anyone usually ask for them. I feel like the answer she expects me to give is someone different than how I actually feel, and I don't want to give my hand away as to my inner thoughts, so instead I decide to play into her hand and tell her what she wants to hear.

"Arnette, definitely Arnette."

"That's exactly what Deidre and Jaspy said!" She giggles some more and throws her head back when she does so. What a bimbo. "She is a huge target, despite her stature and incompetent mind. I think she should be our main target when we go into the arena, what do you think?"

To be honest, I don't agree. Its obvious after observing them that they are all uncomfortable with Arnette as the leader and that pack is sure to explode at any given point, much like ours. Taking out Arnette would be a mistake. If we leave her alive, she'll continue to try and control them and it will only make the pack hate her even more, and therefore make an explosion imminent.

But, it's blatantly clear that Raleigh wants me to say Arnette, so I go along with her wishes once again so as to keep the peace between the alliance, and say what she wants me to say to her.

"Yes, I absolutely agree."

"Then it's good, everyone agrees." She flashes her pearly white smile, and after the smile is turned off a bell dings, signaling the end of the allocated lunch period that we have been provided. Raleigh immediately stands up and walks away from the table, throwing the remainder of her food away and swaying her hips over towards the training stations once again.

Not too long afterwards, her little puppies follow her away from the table and scurry to catch up with her, leaving Glint and I alone as we walk to throw away the remaining food.

"She is something else, eh?" Glint says and I nod.

She surely is something else, that's for sure. But sometimes, the one that is the most noticeable, or the most well-trained, or the leader doesn't necessarily give them the victory. Sometimes, it's the people in the background, the people that others don't see coming, the dark horse, that can claim the crown.

If only they knew the real dangers that this dark horse possessed.

* * *

><p><strong>Braden Kellis, 18, District Two<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>"Are you going to try and win?"<p>

"Of course," the lie slips of my tongue just as easy as they always have. Lying is something I've grown accustomed to. It's easier than telling the truth, for me, and the people I lie to. The truth can be a very hard thing for some to swallow, which can cause reactions I just don't feel like dealing with, so lying it is.

Winning the Killzone would be absolutely pointless, there's no prize, other than sponsors, and a huge target painted on your back for all the other tributes. The poor fool who wins this will be on everybody's radar, and probably won't survive the bloodbath.

I'll be aiming for a happy medium, well medium for a career. Top eight sounds about right; high enough to attract sponsors, but not good enough to cause that much attention to myself.

Arnette has been stressing the importance of the Killzone since the careers split. Apparently overall we need to do better than the other pack, so the sponsors will chose us over them. Which is going to be nearly impossible, considering that pack has all of District One, who have always been the Capitol's favourites. Proved even more by this stupid Quell twist.

"Look, here she comes. Guess it's time to get this thing started," Ebba notes as the rather petite Head Trainer steps forth to address the group of us.

Ebba is someone I've grown rather close to over the past few days, her being one of the only few careers in my pack that I can handle. Ebba never pushes, if I'm not feeling like talking, she's perfectly content training in comfortable silence, which is definitely not a trait Arnette has. I went at the swords with her this morning, and all she talked about were how horrid the other careers were. The split has definitely had the heaviest impact on Arnette, and she has made it her personal mission to destroy them.

I couldn't care less about the split, actually I prefer it. Ten careers working together was never going to work, and as long as they stay out of our way, I can only see positives of letting them take out a few of our bigger competitors while we sit back and relax. Of course, things may get a little intense when the big face off comes, but by then I'm hoping they'll have suffered a few losses.

30 tributes has made for a higher chance of outer-district threats, and I'm definitely not disappointed. District Three is unusually strong, as are the older kids from Seven, and the girls from Eight and Twelve.

"Attention Tributes, we're going to get started here. I won't get into the details, because I'm sure you're all heard how the Killzone works. You'll be given a suit, which contains many, many sensors. When a weapon comes in contact with you, the sensors will evaluate the data, and give you a shock signifying how injured you are. Once the sensors determine you have been fatally injured, they are programmed to drag your body to the nearest floor or wall, where you will be held in place until one of you makes the last kill."

She lingers on the word kill, glancing around at all of us to digest our reactions before continuing on.

"You may only use the weapon you take in with you, and you may not use your own body to fight. Any use of anything else will result in an automatic death for you in the Killzone, and I doubt the Gamemakers will like it much if you go breaking their rules, that is if they're not too busy fighting each other."

She awkwardly coughs after her last sentence, quickly looking around nervously as if she wasn't supposed to say that. Oh wonderful, the people in charge of our lives aren't getting along, I'm sure that'll just bring great things to the arena.

"Well we're screwed," Ebba whispers in my ear, and I can't help but chuckle as she perfectly voices my thoughts.

"Anyways, this year we will be changing it up a little bit. There are 30 entrances into the mock arena, meaning everyone will be going in at once, in order to ensure the results are the most accurate they can be. As soon as you walk through your door, you are encouraged to start the killing, and when everything is said and done, you will come out and be able to view your stats on the board behind me."

I look up to see a giant screen showcasing the numbers one through 30, an empty chart as of right now, but it'll fill up soon.

"Trainers will be around to fit you into your suit, and then you will come up to this table and select your weapon. And then a trainer will take you to your entrance where you will wait to commence. Good luck tributes, and don't lose sight of how important this is. A good Killzone placement is guaranteed to achieve you a few sponsors."

She finishes up her speech, dismissing the trainers to bring us our suits.

"Good luck Braden, let's show them District One idiots what they're up against." I nod in response. Perhaps Ebba's worst quality would be her arrogance. She's not as overly confident as some of the other careers are, but she has her moments where she definitely thinks she's better than others. Oh well, that's something I can handle, as long as she doesn't do anything stupid, but Ebba's not one to stir the pot, at least not on purpose.

A trainer approaches me with a plain black, skin-tight suit, and a small black device that attaches to my ear. He helps me step into it - it fitting right over my clothes, before instructing me to go wait in line to chose a weapon.

As I'm waiting, I'm sure to watch what people select as their weapon. Whatever weapon they chose now is the weapon their lost comfortable with, and the weapon that I should watch out for.

Eden unsurprisingly choses a spear, and Arnette picks some weird looking sword. But I'm shocked when the younger District Three girl choses some sort of knuckle duster. Not exactly the most practical weapon, but obviously she's confident with it. The District Twelve girl choses a short sword, and I'm left waiting on the little dark-skinned girl from Eleven. I expect her to grab a knife, or a slingshot, but I almost laugh when I see her tiny hands wrap around a crossbow. Mind you, it's a smaller version, but still, I can't picture that little girl shooting arrows around.

I grab a handful of knives, before following a trainer down to a single door. It's only a matter of a few minutes before a monotone voice announces that it's time, and I hear the familiar click of my door unlocking.

"Good luck," the trainer smiles, before opening my door and forcing me in.

* * *

><p><strong>Regan Volke, 18, District Seven<strong>

**District11-Olive**

* * *

><p>I impatiently hit my axe against the door in front of me. It's been several minutes already since I've been standing here. I'm getting bored to say the absolute least, and this suit is more uncomfortable than anything I have ever had the displeasure of having to wear. I didn't even get my first choice at weapons, the trainer that was putting this stupid suit on didn't have a clue what she was doing. Anything that resembled the giant knife I've been training with was already gone by the time I got there.<p>

I swing the axe in front of me, the part of it that would normally be sharp bouncing off the door harmlessly. I still don't understand how this child's game is supposed to help prepare us for the real arena but it sounds like it will be fun. All of the tributes so close together, bodies packed on the floor like the corpses they'll probably be a few days from now. It sounds like it could be entertaining.

"Sixty seconds."

The voice sounds oddly mechanical coming from a speaker somewhere around me. One minute until is silly game starts, it's about time. I don't know why they're waiting so long, it's not like I have to prepare myself or anything. Though if they were going to delay us so long it would have been nice to have the option of getting a snack beforehand.

I begin counting down the seconds in my head. By the time the thirty second mark comes and goes the area around me is almost completely dark. At fifteen seconds I notice a dark green light flickering on the side of my suit. At ten seconds my suit begins to vibrate slightly, probably activating or something. Finally when the timer ends I hear the door slide open.

The interior of the room is almost impossible to make out. The entire place is dark, with random circular lights flashing on and off in sync with the strips of coloured light that I guess symbolize tributes. I flip my axe over into my good hand and slide along the wall by my door, using one arm to try and stifle the brightness of the light.

Someone all but runs into me as I slide along, but I see them first. My axe is moving a second later, hitting somewhere around the tribute's neck if they were to be around my height. I must be right because whoever it is screams and is forced to the ground and the yellow light at her side disappears. I try to remember which district yellow is supposed to be but decide it doesn't matter.

I continue along the wall unnoticed, but a lot of the others aren't quite so lucky. I hear tributes hitting the wall and floor all around me. Other than the odd groan or startled scream, the room is silent. I bash my foot off something that is way too hard to be a person and duck behind whatever it is. Beside me a young female yells out as someone, possibly me, steps on her hand.

This is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. The darkness makes it impossible to see anything, and the flashing lights are disorienting. I have no idea how far away I am from the door I entered through, and even less of an idea how many tributes are left. I count at least fifteen strips of light but I know I'm probably not the only one smart enough to try and cover it up. I groan in frustration, this is not near as fun as it should be.

I hear someone approaching me just before I stand up and I hold my breath. I am almost certain that they can't see me, considering that the only thing I can see about them is the glowing pink light. Another flash of light comes and I am able to kind of see that it is one of the older females, but I can't remember any of the tributes enough to confidently say their district even in normal light.

Most importantly, I see that her eyes are not looking anywhere near me. I decide to make a break for it just in case she might decide to look down here. Rather than risk standing, I crawl over the girl on the floor. I curse under my breath as the girl calls out and I feel a solid hit on my arm. I forget for a second to cover my light as my suit freezes in the place where I was struck.

I cover it up a second later and stay where I am, hoping that she will think I am dead and walk away. My plan must work because no more thrashes come. A few seconds later I get back on my feet, using my good arm and weapon to continue to cover the strip of light as my hurt arm remains frozen. This is shit, now I only have one arm to work with.

I decide to take myself back to the wall. There is not a lot of movement around me and I can only count six light strips left. Never mind five, I can't help but smirk to myself as another light goes quickly towards the floor and then goes out completely. This game is going to be over pretty quickly by the looks of things, but that's just as well. I don't think I want to stay in this room for too much longer. I hate feeling vulnerable like this.

I slink along the walls, almost tripping over a boy and scrambling to put my hand over his mouth before he gives me away. As more and more lights fall I get a better feeling about my chances. If this game is any determination of how well I will do in the real arena, I'd say I've all but won already.

* * *

><p><strong>Eira Gray, 17, District Eight<strong>

**Acereader55**

* * *

><p>The shock was more terrifying than the actual blade hitting me.<p>

I try to move my head but it won't budge from its position on the wall, forever hanging limp until this "competition" is complete. It's even more annoying that I cannot see anything in between these intervals of flashing light.

At the beginning, when we were ushered inside, I thought that this would be relatively simply- hide the best that I could and try not to be caught until the very end. It was no where near that simple.

When I stepped foot into the pitch black room that is called the killzone, I nearly tripped over my own feet. I couldn't even find my hand in front of my face, that's how dark it was. Thankfully, light flashes came on at certain intervals and it helped me see, but not much longer than that someone found me and stabbed me from behind, "killing" me instantly, before I even had a chance to do anything more than worry about how I was going to be able to see.

Before I knew it, I was being dragged to the wall to my left and I got slammed into it, and when I tried to move, my limbs ceased to do what I had tried to command them to do. It was honestly quite scary, though I knew this was better than the alternative, which was actually being dead.

As I stayed almost attached to the wall, I could see figures running through the dark, though it was still hard to see faces even when the lights flickered on. However, when the lights did flash, so did some of the stripes on people's suits, and luckily for me I glanced at the board to see which district had which light on their suits.

As the lights flashed on, so did a colored light in front of me and I instantly recognized it as someone from my district.

"Armada?" I whispered. The lights flickered back off before I could see the figures face, but I continued to call out. "Armada, is that you?" I can hear the figure moving towards me across the floor, and before they can see me they run right into me, causing pain to flare up in my chest.

"Eira, why are you on the wall?" I guess the figure was Armada, and he clearly didn't really understand how this killzone worked, otherwise he would have understood that I was metaphorically killed and am now bound to this wall.

"I was killed before I could see it coming," I say. "Not that you can see much in front of you, let alone see something that's coming from behind you." I giggle a little bit and so does he. A little bit of humor can make any situation a little bit lighter. "Now go, I don't want you getting killed right in front of me." I smile even though he cannot see it, and I can hear his feet scamper away on the ground.

Suddenly, I hear a loud groan and Armada suddenly scream out as something slams onto the wall next to me. The lights quickly flicker on, and I can see a pink light flame up on the side of a girl's suit before the girl quickly darts away and out of sight behind a crate. So the girl from One got Armada eh? Neither of the girls from One seemed like a killer, but I guess under these circumstances anyone is willing to do whatever it takes to win.

"Are you okay Armada?" I whisper. I'm not sure if he can hear me because I'm not entirely sure how close he is to me, but I'm happy when I hear his voice respond to my question.

"I'm fine," he answers. "It just felt like an electric shock and then I suddenly went numb." He laughs a little before continuing. "It was kind of fun. It's not everyday we can play in something like this! Even though the idea behind it is morbid…"

"Yeah… I guess we didn't do so well though." I awkwardly laugh to ease the topic away from actually thinking about the real games, and Armada laughs with me.

"Did we really expect to do well in this anyways though?" I'm not sure whether the question is meant to be rhetorical or answered, but I stay silent nonetheless. Better to not answer that honestly and get the kid's hopes down.

After a while of hanging out on the wall with Armada and seeing numerous tributes pass by us as the lights flicker on and off, finally we are suddenly released from the wall and Armada and I fall to the floor with a thud.

"Guess the game is over."

Trainers flood through the doors as the lights turn on, and suddenly I can see that the whole killzone is actually rather small. There are boxes everywhere that are probably the reason why many tributes groaned and tripped, and the walls are closer together than I anticipated.

"Hold still while I unzip you from your killzone suit," a redheaded trainer instructs me. "Once I am done, you can head out the nearest door and check the main board to see your placing."

The trainer is fiddling with the back of my suit when suddenly it becomes a lot lighter and she instructs me to slip out of it, which I gratefully and eagerly do. Armada is also out of his suit and he rushes over to me, linking arms with me and smiling up at me, ushering me towards the nearest exit.

"Let's go see how everyone did!" He says.

We exit through the door and right away there is a gigantic board that has everyone's name, district, color, and kill count. I'm surprised to see that Avrie has managed to gain such a high placing, but I'm happy that at least someone in our alliance has gotten a high placing that can attract sponsors.

For now though, I'm contempt to be in the background cast as the mother figure. I may have been stabbed in the back in the killzone, but as many children know, mothers have eyes in the back of their head.

And I am no different.

* * *

><p><strong>Raleigh Torrance, 18, District One<strong>

**Call Me Fin**

* * *

><p>Before I had even said a word, they had all pegged me as just your average ditzy girl from One.<p>

I knew it would be easy, but they've really left me with no work at all, Jasper especially. He thinks I'm his loyal little follower who will do anything he wants, but that's exactly what I want him to think. Jasper is going to propel me forward, but after he runs his usefulness, he'll be gone, just like the others.

Breaking up the careers was not something I had planned ahead, but Arnette's attitude had lead me to the idea, and now my work load is even less. The two groups are going to go head to head, there's no doubt about that. But they'll all be too busy focusing on the bigger threats to notice little dumb Raleigh sneaking off into the background.

I didn't want to do that well in the Killzone, but my 19th placement embarrasses me more than a little. Of course Dierdre only did a few better than me, but still if that little bitch from Eight hadn't come up behind me I would have done a bit better.

I look over to catch the eye of said red-headed bitch, and see her smirking at me as she nods to the screen. I scan the list, looking for her hideous name and finally find it, her placement making my jaw drop.

Avrie got fifth? Fifth! How? Who killed her? How many kills did she have? I continue studying the chart and notice that she only picked up two kills, myself and that little boy from Seven, before being taken out by Braden.

"Being taken out by an outer District scum, One, really I thought you were better than that," I clench my fists as I hear Arnette snicker behind me, but on the inside I'm smiling. Let them see me as weak, let them underestimate me, it'll just cause more of a shock later when I outlast them all.

I find Arnette's name on the list and have to fight back the urge to turn around and call her out for being a hypocrite. She came seventh, but beside her name is the name of her killer, which just so happen to be none other than the weird guy from seven, Regan Volke.

The snickering behind me continues as I continue to study the stats board. Arnette and her little gang of idiots like to pretend their a close knit group of friends, but any old ditzy girl from One can see the cracks. And I do.

Braden and Ebba are obviously close, but they don't socialize much with the others. Atlas doesn't talk much to anyone, and Eden sticks to herself for the most part. None of them look comfortable under Arnette's control, and I begin to wonder why any of them chose her side to begin with. Probably in fear of being with the useless bitch from One, and the 100 pound twerp from Four. We're not exactly the most intimidating group, but we'll get the job done.

I almost jump as Jasper suddenly appears beside me, his eyes too studying the board.

"I don't know what happened, I was walking along and all of the sudden that girl jumped me!" I raise my voice in attempt to make myself sound like a child as I explain myself to Jasper. Honestly I couldn't careless what he thinks, but I must keep up appearances.

Jasper doesn't reply other than a simple grin as his eyes continues to scan the board.

There's not much else to note if I'm honest, Eden won, which is no surprise, the girls a beast with that spear. Regan came second, which is something I didn't see coming but he's always had a weird vibe about him, like he's more than a little excited to get into the arena. And Zaria came third. Good, she'll be seen as the strongest of our little pack, and be targeted first. Which is fine by me, there's always been something a little unnerving about my quiet District partner, but apparently she's quite good with those knives of hers.

"We should head back, there's nothing to gain by staying here," Jasper suggests, but he begins to walk towards the elevator before I even have the chance to reply, expecting me to follow. I do of course, being the good little puppy I am.

We walk past a number of people, each showing a number of different reactions to their stats. The District Nine girl is crying, which isn't surprising considering she was the first one eliminated, though her friend from Ten is awkwardly rubbing her back in attempt to comfort her. Though Corlis didn't do that much better, coming in at 21st, slain by her own District partner.

Speaking of the arrogant prick, he stands not that far off, smirking as he takes in his place of eighth. The little girl he's been oddly hanging around with from Seven stands beside him, sulking at her place.

I push past the pair, still following Jasper as he steps into the nearest elevator and presses the number one.

"Arnette will never let us live it down that she got higher than both of us, and someone from her alliance won the whole thing."

"It doesn't matter, it's not the real Games," I assure Jasper, but he doesn't look convinced.

"Have you decided who you want to target in the bloodbath?" Jasper seems to ponder the thought before coming to a decision and shaking his dead.

"She's strong because of her numbers, I feel it would be beneficial if we took out her weakest members. Rattle her a little bit."

I look over to Jasper to see he's starring at me with that suspicious looks he always gives me whenever I say something half intelligent. I curse myself before throwing on my fake smile and looking at him for approval.

"And who do you suggest that is?" he says after returning to his normal, neutral expression.

"I don't know, who do you think?" I purr, leaning back against the side of the elevator.

"We should pay attention to training scores, but right now I'd say it'd be Atlas and Ebba. Atlas is just crazy, and Ebba doesn't seem to be taking this seriously."

"Whatever you say Jaspy," he let's out a low chuckle before shaking his head and getting out of the elevator.

"Zaria! You did wonderful!" I cheer as soon I see the dark-haired girl sat on the couch. She looks up at me and smiles slightly before looking down and rolling her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking.

What a bitch, I'd like to rip her apart right here.

My smile never falters.

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><p><strong>Song: Move Along by The All-American Rejects.<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: Hey all, it's Olive again. Back with a *late* chapter. We had a little bit of an issue of Fin almost dying with the flu or whatever the hell he has, but we are still going strong other than that and hopefully will be on time next week...**

**Nothing much else to say honestly aha, just that we hope you enjoyed the chapter. The Kill-Zone placements are up on the blog/ will be up within an hour of this chapter posting so check those out! Also we are now officially halfway through the Capitol! Yeah that is pretty exciting I think so at least.**

**Leave us a review and let us know how we are doing, if you have the time to do so. It would mean the world to hear from all of you.**

**Some questions to get those review wheels rolling;**

_**What do you think of these tributes?**_

_**What do you think of the new alliances that were formed?**_

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><p><strong>So that is pretty much it, up next week will be Training Day Three. Stay tuned, I guess?<strong>


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